Taming the Wolf
by Erica North
Summary: A chance encounter with a faction of warriors on her way to Windhelm redirects Luthien's course. She has a lot to learn about being a warrior, and the Companions can teach her about glory, honor, family but first she must prove she's worthy of the pack.
1. Chapter 1

Whiterun… it hadn't exactly been at the top of her list of places to go, at least not initially. Luthien could still feel the wavering heat of that dragon's breath, still see Ulfric Stormcloak standing bound and gagged just over her shoulder as the executioner prepared to drop his blade down on her neck with no care for her crimes. Damned Imperials.

If she closed her eyes for even a moment, she could almost feel the earth trembling beneath her feet as buildings fell and men too. She could hear General Tullius barking orders like a dog, and for a moment she thought for sure the dragon's fire breath burned the grate of that voice from the world once and for all.

She hadn't heard yet if Ulfric escaped alive, or that bastard General Tullius for that matter. For all she knew, the war could have been over, and traveling all the way to Windhelm a huge waste of time.

Ralof had cut her binds and helped her escape Helgen with her head. He had invited her to his sister's home where they offered her a warm bed for the night, a share in their supper and all the supplies she could carry. The people of Skyrim hadn't exactly been hospitable in the face of civil war, which made that kind of generosity a debt that needed paid in kind.

She owed Ralof her life, and his sister Gerdur as well, so when Gerdur asked her to carry news of the dragon to Jarl Balgruuf in Whiterun, how could she say no?

"If you do head to north to Windhelm and gods willing, Ulfric is still alive, tell him I will vouch for you if you arrive before I do," Ralof said, reaching over to clap her hard on the shoulder. "Tell him I owe you my life and that the Stormcloaks would do well to have a warrior like you in their ranks."

"Thank you, Ralof, for everything." Luthien lifted her hand to rest atop his. They had already been through so much together, she felt as if she'd known him her entire life. "As a true Nord, it is my duty to stand against the Imperials. I will make my way to Windhelm after I meet with the jarl of Whiterun."

"Gods speed, my friend."

Things might have turned out differently if Ralof had gone North with her. She'd seen the way he looked at her just before she left. There'd been admiration and a hint of playful mischief in the last glance they shared. Two people didn't live through that kind of hell together without it awakening their passions, especially when the world always seemed to be just one step away from crumbling underneath their feet. Mara obviously had other plans for her, or so it would seem. Ralof had leaned in and hugged her the same way he'd hugged his sister when they arrived in Riverwood.

Gerdur directed her to the Riverwood Trader as she was leaving, so she could pick up a few supplies for the road, but first she stopped off at the Sleeping Giant Inn to ask the barkeep if he'd heard any rumors worth repeating. She didn't know how she got roped into the middle of some bizarre love triangle, but in the end she found herself with a sturdy young Bosmer named Faendal at her side, and a request from Lucan Valerius for her to retrieve some stolen golden claw from Bleak Falls Barrow. There was promise of a reward, and as she glanced down at the tattered Stormcloak armor she'd taken from one of Ralof's brothers in arms, she knew she needed the gold.

Fortunately for her, Faendal was looking for adventure, and offered to accompany her to Whiterun, but it wasn't until mid-evening the two of them finally set out north.

She was grateful for the company, though not in much of a mood for conversation. She listened while Faendal chattered on behind her about Camilla Valerius until the sound of his voice brought the wolves in looking for a fight. After fending off the attack, he kept quiet, even when they came across a group of Imperial guards escorting a ragged Stormcloak soldier between them.

Luthien's sword hand twitched with vengeance when she saw them, a part of her wanting desperately to free the man they most likely escorted to his death. She told herself Ulfric would have done it without a second thought, but there were three of them and she didn't have weapons to spare if she did actually manage to free the Stormcloak. Besides, she had no idea where Faendal stood on the whole war. The last thing she needed was her follower turning on her before they were but a few miles outside of Riverwood.

She ignored the Imperials as they taunted her when she passed, threatening to take her into custody if she didn't move along and mind her own business.

Talos, how she hated them. They were so smug, as if they had any business in Skyrim, telling the Nords how to live their lives, which gods they could worship. She'd watched them take down her own father in cold blood after falsely accusing him of harboring Ulfric Stormcloak. Her father had never even met Ulfric, though if he had, things might have been different there too. While he lay there dying on the floor, the guards dragged her mother outside to make an example of her in front of all the other villagers, and that was when Luthien attacked.

They would have killed her too, if it hadn't been for Ulfric Stormcloak. His capture had saved her life, the Imperial guards quickly forgetting about killing her as they dragged Ulfric out and quickly gagged him to keep the power of his Thu'um quiet. He hadn't even looked at her, his proud, defiant stare focused on the Imperials who'd captured him. Perhaps he would never know that he'd saved her life, but it didn't matter. She would pay him back one day, proving herself loyal to him and his cause for all the Nords in Skyrim.

But she wouldn't be able to do that if she was already dead.

Drawing her hand off the hilt of her sword, she moved past them and kept her eyes focused on the lights of Whiterun up ahead. She allowed those lights to draw her forward, away from the fire of her own hate, until the muffled din of battle sounded in her ears. Her heart hoped it was more Imperials, but as she picked up speed she caught sight of three warriors battling a giant at the edge of a small farm just outside the city.

The ground trembled beneath the giant's feet as he stomped the earth and lifted his club, swinging it in a wide circle that just missed the tallest of the three warriors who danced around him such grace it befuddled his dull senses. He spun this way and that, a sure-footed female warrior with hair like fire ducking under his swing to jam her sword up under the giant's ribs.

Luthien yanked her sword from the scabbard and charged in, catching the giant off guard with a backward slice of her blade that distracted him just enough for the brawny warrior to launch a battle axe into the behemoth's face. Splintering bone and the wet thunk of steel sinking into flesh, and then the giant staggered backward. Luthien ducked out of his way as he stumbled over his own clumsy feet and fell to the ground with a crash like thunder rumbling the earth.

"Nice work, stranger." The red haired woman stalked toward her, lifting a torch to inspect her. In the flickering light of the fire, Luthien saw war paint in three fierce scratches down her long face and a flicker of admiration in her iridescent green eyes. "I think we could have managed without you, but we appreciate your initiative. Who are you?"

"I'm just a traveler," she said, diverting her gaze to the timid woman and ox-like warrior lingering near the giant. "Who are you?"

"We are the Companions. Perhaps you've heard of us." She didn't mistake the woman's pride for arrogance. It went deeper than that.

"The Companions," she shook her head, feigning ignorance. Of course she'd heard of the Companions. Every child in Skyrim had heard stories of the Companions around the fire at night. Luthien's own father had once lamented that he'd ignored the warrior's call to take up hammer and anvil, and not a day had gone by that he hadn't lamented the glory he might have known among the Companions. "Never heard of them."

"Well, that's a first," the woman's eyes shot over her shoulder. "You aren't bad with a blade. If you're headed to Whiterun, perhaps you will come to Jorrvaskr and talk to our leader." She turned away and headed toward her shield-brother and sister. "Farkas, Ria, meads on me tonight."

Luthien watched them head toward Whiterun, her feet starting forward almost without her mind willing them to move. She didn't want to appear eager, so she stepped up beside the massive warrior and said. "How did you become a Companion?"

His voice was deep, slow and soothing when he spoke, and he had no trouble making eye contact. His eyes were almost mesmerizing, a deep blue that seemed to glow, or maybe it was just the moonlight. "Our father raised me and my brother Vilkas among the Companions. It's all I've ever known. Are you thinking about joining? You should, you know. I watched the way you moved. We could use more warriors like you among us."

"I may," she nodded. "I am delivering a message to the jarl. A dragon attacked Helgen and Riverwood fears they may be next."

When he started to laugh, Luthien felt tension tighten in her stomach. "A dragon? Everyone knows there are no dragons."

"Tell that to the men I watched burn under its fire yesterday morning," she said, a curt grin drawing at the corners of her mouth. She pushed past him, her hard shoulder connecting low on his solid bicep, but he still felt it. Rolling aside to allow her through, she could feel his eyes on her as she headed toward the Wind District and the jarl's keep.

"Hey," he called out, a hint of animosity in his tone. "Are you going to Jorrvaskr to see Kodlak?"

Shrugging, she didn't turn back to look at him. "If I do, you'll know."

"All right then. I guess I'll see you there if you do." His voice softened, the gruff edges almost innocent, and she could hear the heavy steel of his boots tromping the ground as he ran to catch up with his shield-sisters. "Did you see her ass, Aela? My gods, I don't think I've ever seen a woman look so good in cheap armor. And I think she likes me too."

"Keep it in your pants, Farkas. She barely noticed you. A woman like that has more on her agenda than finding a big strong man to look after her needs," Luthien heard the other woman say, their voices trailing right as she turned left and headed up the stairs to Dragon's Reach.

She had noticed him; that was for sure. His eyes had been so intense and playful, and when he'd smiled she felt the unrequited want she'd ignored when parting ways with Ralof flare up inside her again. Times were uncertain, and she had no intention of dying without ever having felt man's touch…

She glanced over her right shoulder, pausing for a moment on the landing, her gaze drawn to Jorrvaskr and the three warriors who approached its doors. Farkas stopped to allow the two ladies in front of him to pass through first, his hand rested on the doorframe as the din and howl of praise and chiding echoed through those doors.

It had to be the right man, even in such strange and dangerous times. She couldn't just lay with anyone to sate her desires, but Farkas… he had potential, even if he didn't believe in dragons. She wondered how he looked in plainclothes, if he moved just as gracefully off the battlefield as he did on. She wondered where he stood on the war.

"No lollygagging," a Whiterun guard brushed past her, startling her from her contemplation.

"Of course not, sir," she smiled and headed up the final stairs to Dragon's Reach, the great keep of Jarl Balgruuf.


	2. Chapter 2

Jarl Balgruuf was a smug man who refused to take a stand on the war, and though Luthien didn't like how friendly he seemed to be with the Imperials, she had to respect the amount of thought he put into choosing a side. Standing against the Imperials simply because he was a Nord didn't seem to be an option for him. He had the welfare of his people to consider, and she respected that too.

He seemed to be in need of a warrior to retrieve some dragon stone the court wizard believed would prove useful to them. The initiative she'd shown in coming to him with word about the dragon attack at Helgen put her at the top of his list.

Her purse was still lighter than she wanted it to be, especially considering she still planned to make the journey to Windhelm, and Balgruuf promised to reward her handsomely if she could manage that one little task for him.

Lucky for Balgruuf, she was already planning to head to Bleak Falls Barrow, but not until she took a night to recuperate from the mayhem that had consumed her life over the last few weeks. She still couldn't believe her father was dead, and she had no idea what had become of her mother after the Imperials bound her in ropes and carted her away from her home. It was a lot to process, and she hadn't had much time to really think.

Making her way down the stairs from Dragon's Reach, she heard the raucous sound of celebration over her left shoulder. Her gaze was immediately drawn once more to the lights of the great hall of Jorrvaskr. Home of the Companions, the stone dragons that perched upon its roof felt cold and too unreal, and for a flicker of a moment, she thought it was no wonder Farkas didn't believe in dragons. That dragons he'd known all his life were made from stone, docilely raised above the hall where he lived like guardians of old, but she knew firsthand that there was nothing docile about dragons. And rather than guard and keep her safe, they would tear her apart limb from limb and roast her before swallowing her like a sheep in the open fields.

The sounds of their merrymaking called to her. It felt like ages since she'd known true companionship, or the comfort of a real home, and once more her feet carried her without her mind's compliance, guiding her up the stairs to the front doors of Jorrvaskr.

The hall smelled of fire smoke and roasted meat, mead and ale, oiled metal armor and polished leather, and underneath was a musky odor she didn't recognize that sent chills racing up the length of her spine. Perhaps it was the scent of blood, she told herself, her attention immediately focusing on a brawl near the end of the table between a seasoned dark elf and a foul-mouthed warrior woman with fists like stone.

She turned over her shoulder to Faendal. "I think it's time for us to part ways," she said, her distracted gaze quickly returning to the brawl. They'd dropped their weapons and were pummeling each other with bare fists.

"I'll head back home to Riverwood," Faendal said. "Come and find me if you ever need my help again."

_Not bloody likely_, she muttered under her breath. He hadn't exactly been much help, but at least he'd kept her company on the journey. "Yeah, thanks again, Faendal."

She barely heard the door open and close at her back, she was so focused on the fight at hand. Around the table, warriors sat cheering them on, urging the one named Njada to hammer his face to a pulp.

"Hey, you owe me a bottle of mead," she heard Farkas's distinct voice, and glanced in his direction to watch him rise up from his seat beside Aela. "I told you she couldn't resist me."

"I don't think she's here for you, buddy," Aela chuckled, reaching up to grab his arm and tug him back into his seat. "Which means _you owe me_."

"You looking for something, kid?" A one-eyed bald man with smudges of black war paint beneath his eyes stepped in front of her, obscuring her view of Farkas.

"Who's in charge around here?"

"In charge?" His laugh was rough and a bit sarcastic. "We don't really have a leader, at least not in the traditional sense anyway, but I guess if you're looking to test your mettle, Kodlak would be the one to talk to. He's the Harbinger."

"And where would I find this Kodlak?"

"Head down those steps over there and turn right. Go straight back that hallway. You should find him there outside his rooms. He's not hard to miss. Big man, white beard. Looks a little er… constipated."

Luthien felt her brow wrinkle, but before she could ask what he meant, Farkas nudged between them, grinning from one ear to the other. "I told Aela you would come. There aren't too many great warriors who can turn away from the call of the glorious Jorrvaskr."

"Whoa there, little man," the bald one elbowed his taller and much broader shield brother in the ribs. "That's a lot of big words coming from you. Don't tell me you've been reading through your brother's books."

"What?" Farkas took a step back, the gears in his mind churning in attempt to make sense of the other man's jest. "No. Who needs books when you've got steel? Right, Skjor?" He tapped the hilt of his sword and then turned his attention back to Luthien. "So you're going to join the Companions?"

"I don't know," she shook her head. "I was going to run a few jobs for Jarl Balgruuf to earn a bit of coin so I can make the trip to Windhelm."

"Windhelm?" Farkas contorted his face. "What's in Windhelm?"

"The Stormcloaks, little man," Skjor muttered, looking around the room to make sure no one heard him. "Look, girl, I don't take sides in wars anymore, and I don't fault anyone who chooses a side if they've got a damn good reason. I fight for myself and my brothers and sisters now. But if I were you, I'd watch who you talk to in Whiterun about your intentions of joining Ulfric's revolution. There are more than a fair share of folks around these parts that would gladly put your head on a spike in front of the city if they even suspected you might be choosing the wrong side."

"Bah," Farkas shook off Skjor's warning like a bear shaking water from its fur. "Too many words, Skjor, you know politics and all that stuff confuses me."

The seriousness melted from Skjor's face, the wrinkles growing into laugh lines Luthien was sure he didn't use near as often as he once had. "Everything confuses you, little man!" And then he clapped Farkas on the back as he turned away, muttering into his flagon of mead.

"You're not much on war, I take it?" She glanced up the scuffed surface of Farkas's armor, past the shadow of stubble shading his chin and upper lip. His bright eyes awaited her, drawing her past his simple views for a moment and straight into his soul.

"War is for people who feel like they have to prove something," he shrugged. "The only thing I have to prove is right here." He caressed the hilt of his sword again, his calloused fingers working over the smooth metal pommel and for a moment she wondered if he was referring to more than just his skill with a blade.

Not that she knew anything about such things beyond her own unexplored desires, but for a moment she was relatively sure he was flirting with her.

"So, you came to talk to Kodlak then?" He changed the subject.

"I don't know why I'm here."

"I was pretty sure when I saw you walk through those doors, you came to talk to me again, but if it's coin you're after, you can earn a fair share running jobs for the Companions. If Kodlak thinks you're worthy, that is."

Okay, she was sure he was flirting now, and she didn't know how to respond. Did she flirt back, or play coy, like she had no idea? He was definitely easy on the eyes, that was for sure.

"I do need coin," she sighed.

"To join your war," he nodded. "Right. I may not be smart, but I have a pretty good memory."

"Who says you're not smart?" she felt herself starting to smile as she chanced another look into those strange, yet beautiful eyes.

"A lot of people say I'm not smart. Those people get my fist." He hammered his clenched fist into his open palm, and then he laughed, his armor rattling as his broad chest shook beneath it. "But seriously, you should talk to Kodlak if you're thinking about joining us."

"I think I will," she said. "Thanks, Farkas."

She started away, but he reached for her hand, drawing her back beside him. "Hey," he began. "I uh… I never got your name."

For a moment she wondered if using her name would be safe. If Skjor was true, and the Imperials had spies within Whiterun, they might be looking for her. Then again, maybe she wanted them to look for her, to know she wasn't afraid to walk proud among the other Nords of Skyrim who refused to bend to Imperial oppression.

"Luthien," she told him.

"I like that," he nodded. "It sounds like something you might call a flower."

She chuckled softly. "I think that was a compliment, so thank you."

This time when she walked away, he didn't stop her, but called after her. "It was a compliment. I mean, it suits you… like a flower."

"Do you ever even stop and listen to yourself talk, Farkas?" Luthien heard Aela say.

"No," he mumbled, and she heard his armor creak and groan as he walked off in the opposite direction. "Wait, what do you mean?"


	3. Chapter 3

She was greeted by all manner of folk on her way down the stairs. The housekeeper, Tilma the Haggard, who claimed she'd been caring for the heroes of Jorrvaskr for as long as she could remember. The young girl who'd been with Farkas and Aela stood bouncing on her heels at the bottom of the stairs, eager to chat, and the stone-fisted fighter from upstairs was making her way toward the bunk house, brushing past Luthien with a chip on her shoulder so broad it nearly wiped out everyone she walked by.

"Excuse me," a slightly inebriated man bumped into her as she scanned the hallway. "You here for the mead?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Nothing," he shook his head and laughed. "I'm Torvar."

"I'm looking for the person in charge."

"The what?"

"Who's in charge?"

"In charge? No one's in charge here. Well, I'm in charge of me, and you're in charge of you, but I guess if you're looking for Kodlak, he's down there."

She followed the unsteady point of his finger toward an open sitting room at the end of the hallway. Nodding, she headed in that direction without looking back. She paused just outside the doorway, a part of her not even sure why she was meeting with this Kodlak to join the Companions. She had things to do, places to be, a war to join.

But her thoughts kept returning to her father in all of this. All those stories he'd told her as a girl about the honor and glory of the famous Companions, and there she was standing in their great hall. She kept asking herself what her father would do if he were in her shoes, and she knew the answer: make a new life for himself, make a new home and family among others who shared the same values. And there was no doubt the Companions shared her father's values, the values she herself had been raised with: duty, honor, glory…

"…I haven't, no, but it's always there inside me, begging to run free again. I don't know how much longer I can hold it at bay, Harbinger. It feels like the beast eats away at me from within, and the more I deny it, the more of me it swallows until nothing will be left but its dark heart."

She stepped into the doorframe, glancing up at the young man speaking and quickly taken aback by how much he looked like Farkas. He had the same flash of war paint around the same set of stunning eyes, but there was something so much sadder about him than what she had seen in Farkas's gaze. His features were sharper, his body smaller, though she could tell even as he was sitting that when he rose up to stand, he would rival his brother in height and underneath his armor every inch of him was lean muscle. His brown hair was just a few inches shorter than his brother's, falling midway down his neck and curling slightly at the ends. She watched as he raised his hand into that hair, smoothing it away from his forehead as he leaned his head back against the wall behind him.

"You're doing well, Vilkas. I know it isn't easy, but in time…"

Vilkas sighed. "It's already been weeks, Harbinger, and it hasn't gotten any easier. It messes with my mind, makes it hard for me to focus on anything but the need to hunt."

"I know, my boy, but you know as well as I do it is the right thing to do. The honorable thing."

She cleared her throat to let them know she was there and Vilkas quickly looked up at her, a flash of animosity burning in his gaze, but her gaze was quickly drawn to the old man, who looked for a moment as if he'd seen a ghost when he saw her standing there.

"You—You've come," he whispered, lifting his hand to wave her into the room. "I mean come in. Come in, child."

"I suppose I should guard my tongue in front of this stranger," Vilkas hissed, his brooding stare boring into her. She could feel it, much the way she'd felt the fire of Farkas's gaze following her as she walked through Whiterun earlier, only there was nothing welcoming or flirtatious about the eyes that watched her.

"Come now, Vilkas. We were all strangers here in Jorrvaskr once, coming to find our place in the world. Do not make our guest feel unwelcome. Tell me, girl, why have you come?"

"I want to join the Companions."

Vilkas sneered laughter, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms just beneath the intricately carved wolf that decorated the breastplate of his armor. "_You_ want to join the Companions? There is no room for outsiders among. Go back to where you came from and leave us alone."

"Vilkas," Kodlak scolded in a smooth, almost fatherly tone. "When last I walked through the bunkhouse, I saw plenty of empty beds. Beds that would be better filled with warm, able bodies looking to take up their swords and bring honor to the Companions."

"Bah," he grumbled. "She looks like she could barely even lift a sword, much less wield one."

Kodlak chuckled and eyed her. "Tell me, girl. How are you with a blade? Do you think you could best Vilkas here in a fight?"

For a moment she wanted to tell him exactly what she thought about giving Vilkas what he needed: a strong punch in his self-righteous jaw, but then she thought better of it. Vilkas looked like he'd been training for years and put his skill to the test as often as the opportunity presented itself. He'd probably demolish her in a fight.

"I won't lie," she began. "I still have much to learn." She also kept to herself the part about how she'd hoped to learn what she needed to know taking up arms with the Stormcloaks. "But I am a fast learner and a good student if you are willing and have the means to teach me."

"Good answer," he turned back to Vilkas. "She is humble, a trait that is all too often forgotten around here. Vilkas, why don't you take our new recruit up to the practice yard and see how she handles herself. If she shows promise, welcome her to our ranks."

"Harbinger, I'm not so sure that's a good…"

"Vilkas," Kodlak said softly, implying more with his tone than mere words could ever say.

"All right," he sighed, giving in, though it was clear he didn't like having to do it. "Come with me," he instructed, rising from his chair.

She followed close behind him, glancing back over her shoulder at Kodlak once more. There was something strange in the old man's eyes. Was it dread? Relief? Hope? She couldn't tell, but before she could ponder on it any longer, she followed Vilkas through the doors that led back up into the mead hall, listening to the sound of his heavy shield clang against his armor as he walked.

He led her through the hall and out the doors into the training yard, and several of the bodies who'd been drinking around the table got up to follow them outside, including Farkas.

Great, she thought. Now they were all going to see what she was made of it, and it wasn't much to write home about. As Vilkas took his place in front of her, she swallowed hard against the ache of fear in her throat. She'd had to fight off a few Imperials when she and Ralof were escaping Helgen, but she'd been fighting for her life then. Where was she going to find the muster to show this man what she was made of?

"I want you to take out your blade and attack me," he said, stretching his neck to the left and then the right before easing his shoulders back as he pulled up his shield. "Come at me with everything you have, don't hold back, or worry that you'll hurt me."

She glanced up and saw Farkas standing behind Skjor and Aela, arms crossed over his chest and a gleam of excitement in his eyes. He was smiling, as if a part of him believed she could actually take on his master-at-arms brother and live to tell about it. She closed her eyes and reached for the hilt of her sword, drawing it from the scabbard. The metallic rush of blade against metal echoed through the night, but was soon swallowed by the sound of her own anxious inhale.

She drew up her sword in both hands and stepped her feet shoulder-width apart, rocking forward on the balls of her feet to test her balance as she tried to calm her nerves. She hadn't felt this same intimidation when she'd charged at the Imperial soldier attacking her father. She'd just rushed in, all blaze and fury and no thoughts about what came next. Now, with Vilkas standing there staring at her expectantly, she couldn't find the spark she needed to drive toward him brandishing her blade.

"What? Are you afraid to come at me?" Vilkas taunted her, lifting his hand to edge her toward him with a quick flick of his fingers. "Afraid I might hurt you, little girl?"

She clenched her teeth hard, those words igniting a fire that she'd only ever felt one other time in her life. The Imperial guard who'd killed her father had called her a little girl, egging her on the same way Vilkas was doing, asking if she was going to throw herself at him and make it easy for him to kill her.

She flew forward in a fury, her emotions guiding her blows as she hammered away at his shield and belted out the words, "I am not a little girl," emphasizing each time she connected with her target. Vilkas stepped backward with each blow, pushing his shield into her sword and sending shocks of pain into the bones of her forearm. She would have kept going, hacking away at his wooden practice shield until it splintered into dust and the blade cut into his flesh if he hadn't shoved hard against her, staggering her backward until she nearly stumbled over her own feet.

"All right," he barked. "All right, that's enough. Sheathe your sword."

Luthien dropped her sword at her side, and for a moment she stood there catching her breath as Vilkas looked her up and down. She heard the sound of groaning arm and whooshing leather as the Companions behind him rose from their seats.

"I said sheathe your sword, whelp," he leveled his gaze at her, a warning flashing in his bright blue eyes.

She slid her sword back into the scabbard and glanced around the faces behind Vilkas. They all looked away, all of them but Farkas, who seemed gleefully impressed, though by what she couldn't guess. She'd wanted to kill his brother just then, and even though she doubted she could have actually done it, the burn inside her had been so strong she could barely control it.

"You show some promise with a blade," Vilkas stepped toward her, obscuring Farkas from her view. "But you still have much to learn."

"So, that's it? You send me back out into the world and that's the end of it?" Maybe it was better that way. Less time messing around trying to follow some thread of her father's dreams meant more time for her to finish the task Jarl Balgruuf sent her to finish so she could collect her gold and be on her way North. She'd find glory and honor in Ulfric's ranks and sate the vengeance inside her.

"No." She watched as the right corner of his carefully drawn mouth twitched with the first inklings of a grin. "I send you on your very first important job as a Companion," he said. "Here." Passing his blade across the space between them, he held the handle to her. "Run my sword up to the Skyforge in the morning so Eorlund can sharpen the blade, and tell him I said to give you some new armor as well. That ragged old Stormcloak getup won't do you much good in a real fight, and it's likely to rile up the guards if they see you walking around Whiterun with it on."

Without another word, Vilkas turned his back on her and walked toward the doors leading into Jorrvaskr. He swaggered as we walked, an arrogant sway to his body that made her blood crackle in her veins like fat over a fire. Who did he think he was?

Farkas watched his brother's back, and after he'd gone inside, they were the only two left standing in the practice yard. Luthien didn't know what to do, or where to go, so she just stood there holding Vilkas's sword, still feeling the out-of-control thunder of her own heart inside her chest. He'd said she hadn't done badly, but did that mean every time she went into battle, she was going to need her opponent to taunt her with her own bad memories? The likelihood of that happening was slim to none.

"You did all right," Farkas said, walking toward her. He gestured to the steel in her hand, "I guess that means you'll become a Companion eventually."

"What? This?" She held up the blade and watched the torchlights of Jorrvaskr flicker across the blue steel blade. "I thought this made me your brother's lackey."

She was surprised when he started to chuckle, even more surprised when he lifted a soft hand to her shoulder and squeezed. "Don't let Vilkas get to you. He's a good man, I swear it, and there's no one else in the world I'd rather have at my side in fight." He glanced toward the closed door his brother had passed through just moments before. "My brother has a lot on his mind lately. He's been… pretty touchy, I guess. And he's never taken very quickly to new people, but he'll get used to you. I'm sure of it."

She didn't know how, and she couldn't ever imagine getting used to him. He was rude and arrogant and his smug grin made her want to bash his own shield back into his face until all his teeth shattered in his mouth.

When she didn't say anything, he gestured toward the doors. "You look tired. Come on inside," he started for Jorrvaskr. "I'll show you where the new bloods sleep."


	4. Chapter 4

There had once been a time when Luthien couldn't even begin to imagine sleeping anywhere outside her father's house. One day, maybe she would come to know that same safety in her husband's home, protect her own children the way her mother and father had worked to protect her all her life. The comfort of her parents in the next room, the promise of their protection had made her feel safe, but after that comfort had been torn out from under her, she learned pretty quickly that if she was tired, she had to sleep and it didn't matter where she was.

But even as she lay in the dark bunkhouse of Jorrvaskr, Torvar's soft snores and the sound of Ria grinding her teeth as she rolled over in her bed almost felt as comfortable as home. She felt safe, sleeping among the Companions, and as she closed her eyes she tried to discourage her wandering thoughts from returning to the fury she'd seen in Vilkas's eyes.

He barely knew her; how could he already hate her? And why did she care so much what he thought of her anyway? If she had any sense whatsoever, she'd take the damn blade he wanted sharpened and leave town, hocking it at the first trader she came across. But she wouldn't. She didn't know why or how, but he'd lit a fire inside her and she wanted nothing more than to prove to him that she was worthy of the Companions. She would bring them honor and glory.

She rolled onto her side, faced the wall and closed her eyes, listening to the unfamiliar sounds of Jorrvaskr. Every once in a while she heard footsteps, quiet voices, laughter from the mead hall above, but for the most part it was quiet, and she let that peaceful interlude carry her away from her troubles long enough to get some much needed sleep.

Come morning, she awoke feeling refreshed, the lingering bitterness she felt about the way Vilkas had taunted her in the yard fading away as she yawned and stretched the ache from her muscles. She'd take his sword to the Skyforge and secretly hope that this Eorlund, who was supposed to fit her with new armor, dropped it into the forge and let it melt.

After she dressed and helped herself to a bit of bread and cheese, she headed outdoors and lifted her face against the bite of the bitter wind as it conflicted with the light of the sun streaming through the heavy clouds. Farkas was just coming up the stairs, and when he saw her with his brother's sword in her hand, he smiled.

"I don't know why, but I thought for sure you'd drop that into an abyss."

"I'm taking it to the Skyforge," she said, "just like he told me to do."

"So I guess that means you'll be sticking around then?"

"For now," she nodded.

"Good to hear." He grinned. "So, when you finish with Eorlund, come back and see me. I might have a job for your, if you're willing to get your hands a little dirty already."

"If it involves taking your sword to the blacksmith…" she started.

"You would do it," he teased. "Just because I told you to and you're the new blood, but don't worry. This isn't a sword run. It may not be the most glamorous job, but it'll put a little gold in your pocket."

"All right. I'll come and find you then."

She made the trek up the hillside, stepping back and gasping when she first laid eyes on the Skyforge. She'd heard stories from her father about that too, how Ysgramor and the original 500 companions had come in search of it, to harness its power for their own weapons.

She hardly had a chance to take in its glory when the man hammering at the forge looked up, the dripping mane of his long grey hair sticking to his cheeks with sweat.

"Hail there," he called out, nudging the hair back over his shoulder and swiping his forearm across his brow. "What brings you to the Skyforge?"

"I've heard rumors that you are the best blacksmith in all of Skyrim," she said. "And though I wanted to come and see you on my own, Vilkas sent me to drop off his sword."

"You must be the new blood," he grunted, reaching out to take the sword from her. "Let me tell you now, don't let those old bloods push you around. The next time Vilkas asks you to run and get him his mead, tell him to get off his lazy ass and do it himself."

"But…"

"No buts about it, girl. Trust me. He'll respect you all the more for it," he assured her. "You've got to stand on your own two feet to prove your worth down there, or they'll run roughshod all over you. Have you running to fetch their shoes and polish their armor. Sure, they test all the new bloods this way, but sometimes they forget that they were young whelps once too."

"Are you a Companion?"

"Me?" He had a powerful laugh, the taut bare muscles of his chest rippling as he threw back his head. "No, not me. I just make their arms for them. I've got more than enough to keep me busy here at the Skyforge."

She nodded, glancing down at the eternal fire, its power drawing her in and holding her in thrall for a moment.

"I suppose you'll be wanting new armor as well," he drew her back to the moment, gesturing toward a set of wolf armor not unlike that which Vilkas wore. "Go on, take it. It's yours. And say, if you're headed back down to Jorrvaskr, would you mind doing me a small favor?"

"Sure, what can I do for you?"

"Take Aela her shield," he reached back and grabbed it from the work stone, holding it out to her.

She started to reach for it, and then drew her hand back, realizing that he'd just told her not to let the Companions take advantage of her. "Wait a minute," she tilted her head, a slow grin lifting the right corner of her mouth. "Didn't you just tell me not to be an errand girl?"

He threw back his head and laughed again, great booming chuckles that echoed off the stone. "You catch on quick, new blood, but if you would do me this one favor, I'd greatly appreciate it."

"Okay," she nodded, taking the shield and tucking it under her arm.

"You're going to do just fine, girl," he told her, watching her walk away for just a moment. The clanging hammer banged the anvil again, the comfort of its repetition reminding her for a moment of home as it followed her down the stone walkway that led to Jorrvaskr.

She sought out Aela first, finding her downstairs talking with Skjor in his room. She didn't know what they were talking about, but they quickly quieted when she knocked and then walked in to hand over Aela's shield.

"Eorlund asked me to give this to you."

"Excellent," she beamed. "I was hoping he'd be finished with this soon."

"I guess Kodlak thinks you have what it takes, new blood," Skjor said. "Have you gone on your first job yet?"

"Only if running errands for Vilkas is considered work."

"This one's got a bit of a tongue on her," he noticed, nodding toward Aela.

"Sometimes one has to be glib if she wants to keep from getting tormented by the likes of you," Aela teased. "I hear Farkas has a job for you. When you finish with that, ask around for more work. He mentioned last night you were looking to make some quick coin, and there are always plenty of jobs to go around."

"Okay," she nodded.

As she backed out of the room, they resumed their conversation, but she tuned out what they were saying as she made her way through the bunkhouse and back upstairs to find Farkas. Instead of Farkas, however, she found Vilkas sitting at the table by himself munching on a crust of bread. He barely looked up when she came in, but she swore she saw him mutter under his breath before hiding his lips behind that crust.

"I'm looking for Farkas," she told him.

"I am not my brother's keeper," he said. When he looked up at her, she felt bare and exposed, as if he could see everything inside her. And he was judging her; she could feel it in the nervous clench of her muscles under his careful scrutiny. "Did you take my sword to Eorlund like I told you to do?"

"I did," she answered, drawing her lower lip between her teeth and gently biting down to keep herself from telling him what Eorlund had told her to say.

"Good," he leaned back in the chair and reached for his mead. "You should be out in the yard training," he said. "Working on that sword arm of yours. As it stands right now, you fight like a girl."

"Farkas said he had a job for me." She bit down on her lip harder, resisting the urge to remind him that she was a girl. She didn't think that would go over very well, and the last thing she needed was even more tension between them if they were going to be working together.

"Farkas isn't here," he shrugged, as if that settled the matter. "He was called on for guard duty and won't be back until just after supper, so I advise you to use your time wisely and get some training in."

"Will you train me to better use my sword?"

The left corner of his mouth twitched, a slight flicker of a smile showing there before he obscured it with his tankard and took a long drink. He lowered the cup to the table and pushed his chair back to stand. "Better me than some other fool who will show you how to do it all wrong, I suppose. Let's go."

She followed Vilkas out into the training yard and stood at his back as he drew into his gear. He reached out and grabbed a heavy, two-handed sword from the rack and turned to pass it over to her hilt-first.

"Which is your dominant hand?" he asked. "The hand you eat with, write with… assuming you can even hold a quill."

She squinted at him, already feeling her anger welling up inside her like a storm. "I write with my right hand," she said, emphasizing the verb in that sentence to assure him she wasn't stupid.

"Good. Now show me how you hold a sword."

Resisting the urge to remind him that he was supposed to be teaching her, she wrapped her fingers tight around the high end of the pommel, squeezing her grip as she fitted her left hand underneath it. She flexed her fingers, stretching them outward before curling them back in around the leather.

"You're holding it too tight. A grip like that will send shocks ringing through your bones and muscles and tire you out long before you follow through with your first strike. Loosen up," he instructed.

She loosened her hands, the heavy weight of the sword dropping a little and causing her to tighten her fingers again.

"Still too tight," he shook his head. "You're holding it like a giant holds his club. Looser." Her reached out and curved his fingers around hers, the muscles of his grip tightening until he pried her fingers loose and then applied just enough pressure to show her how to hold it. "Like that," he nodded. "And when you hold a two-handed blade, the pommel should hover here." Unwrapping his fingers from hers, he pointed at her stomach, just above her belly button. "When I step back, show me your swing."

She nodded, watching as he took two, three then four steps back. When he gave her the silent go ahead, she swung the sword and felt its weight tug her forward so hard she stumbled a bit. Vilkas sucked air through his teeth, his mouth tightening into what she could only assume was an annoyed scowl.

"You are guiding with your left hand and forcing with your right," he said, tilting his head to the side. "Reverse that. Guide with your right, make the blade an extension of your dominant arm. Try again."

She swung again and again, the muscles in her arms screaming under the heavy weight of that sword each time she lifted it back up at his command. And every time he shook his head with disappointment, she felt her face grow hotter with embarrassed anger.

"Don't move," he instructed, circling around behind her. She was surprised when he came in close, his chest pressing into her back, knees nudging hers until they bent the way he wanted them to. He tapped the back of her right foot forward a step and brought his arms around her. His strong hands curled around her fingers, grip loose. As he leaned his cheek against her face, she could feel the rough scrape of his chin when he moved, feel the heat of his exhaled breath rustle through her hair.

"Put all your weight on the ball of your left foot," he said. "When you strike, push off left and draw your right foot forward to guide the movement of your whole body, like this." He followed through, moving her body against his to demonstrate, guiding with her right, forcing left as they brought the blade down hard together. "Again," he said, repeating the movement from behind her over and over until she felt like her arms would drop from her body.

"Now, show me." He unclenched his fingers from hers and stepped back. "And remember, it's all in the swing."

She hadn't realized how much heat his body had been putting off until he moved away and the cold wind swept in beneath the gaps in her armor. A shiver moved through her as sweat trickled down her spine, her whole body suddenly feeling cold.

She waited until Vilkas moved back around to stand in front of her, arms crossed over his chest in hopeless anticipation. She moved the way she'd moved when he'd been behind her, pushing off her left foot, drawing her right foot forward with her sword as she struck hard, metal clanging as he connected with the stone beneath her feet. Lifting her gaze to his in hopes of finding approval there, she did not find what she sought in his eyes. He was a blank slate, unmoving and with no obvious intentions of giving her the praise she sought from him.

"Keep practicing," he said. "You still have a lot to learn, Whelp."

He left her alone in the practice yard, walking back into Jorrvaskr. With the dull ring of Eorlund working the forge above as her motivation, she repeated the movements Vilkas had shown her until her arms felt like wilted leeks and her lungs burned every time she drew a breath.


	5. Chapter 5

Luthien was still in the practice yard when Farkas found her. He lingered for a moment at the edge of the porch, watching her tired arms swing, and then he stepped into the light.

"Sorry I wasn't here earlier to give you that job," he said.

She lowered the heavy blade to the ground and tried to catch her breath.

"It's fine," she assured him. "Your brother thinks I am an atrocious swordsman, and he's had me out here practicing my swing all day."

"Practice is good," Farkas said simply. "I should probably practice more." After a few minutes, during which she didn't know what else to say, he finally asked, "Have you eaten yet?"

"Not since this morning."

"Let's eat. I'll give you the details on that job."

"All right," she agreed, glad to put that sword back in the rack. The muscles in her arms vibrated and hummed agony, and come morning she had a feeling she wouldn't even be able to bend a fork to her lips to eat breakfast.

Inside, the hall bustled with life and warmth, bodies filling the chairs around the great table, laughter and voices carrying out to welcome them in from the cold. She glanced up and saw Vilkas sitting in the same chair he'd been in when she found him that morning. He barely even looked up, but for a moment their gazes met, and then he glanced at his brother.

"You look tired, Farkas. What news from the gates?"

"Someone said they saw a dragon over by the Western Watchtower."

"Bah," Vilkas grumbled into his mead cup. "Now that they've said a dragon destroyed Helgen, that's all we'll here now. Everyone will see dragons everywhere. It's ridiculous."

"They don't just say a dragon destroyed Helgen," Luthien interjected. "It actually happened."

"Is that right?" Vilkas returned his gaze to her, his sharp eyes afire with challenge. "Did you actually see this so-called dragon?"

"Yes," she said simply, lowering into the chair in front of her and reaching for a wedge of cheese. "I did."

The table grew quiet, as if they were expecting her to elaborate on her story, but she said nothing as she began to eat. After a few minutes, conversation resumed again, but even after Farkas took his seat, she could still feel the burn of Vilkas's stare. She looked up only once, met with those strange, sad eyes and held his gaze without fear until he finally shook his head and looked away. It was only a few seconds before he pushed back from the table and left the hall, disappearing down the stairs.

Luthien watched him go, thought as he reached the stairs that he glanced back in her direction, but she couldn't be sure.

"So," Farkas began, "about this job…"

"Yes," she nodded. "I'm listening."

"We got a letter this morning about someone right here in Whiterun who needs a little muscle. I don't know what the deal is, and I don't care. We just need someone to go down there and scare this milk-drinker into submission."

"That sounds easy enough," she shrugged. "Where do you need me to go?"

"The Drunken Huntsman," he said. "Just scare him, rough him up a bit if you have to, but that's it. Got it? I don't want to hear anything about a killing. That wouldn't look good for the Companions."

"Right, no killing."

"No killing," he repeated.

"I'll take care of it tonight," she said. "Right after I finish this cup of mead, and then I think I'm going to head over to Bleak Falls Barrow. The Jarl asked me to fetch something for him there, and there's a guy in Riverwood who lost something important to him. I promised I would help him find it."

"You're going over there alone?" She watched as his brow wrinkled in confusion and wonder, his eyes shining with concern.

"Unless you want to go with me," she shrugged.

"I could tag along," he said. "The draugr up there are dangerous and I hear bandits like to hide out there. Not really a place you want to go wandering around in by yourself."

"Well then, let's go kick some draugr ass," she swilled the last gulp of her mead and scraped the legs of her chair across the floor as she pushed back from the table.

After stopping by the Drunken Huntsman to rough up Elrindir, who packed one hell of a punch, she and Farkas headed along the road south. They passed through Riverwood, and had a quick drink at the Sleeping Giant Inn, and then headed up the northwestern road that cut into the mountain. Her companion wasn't exactly a deep conversationalist, she learned that rather quickly, but he made her laugh a lot and put the hurt on a pack of wolves that came at them. When they met with a rough group of bandits holding up in an old abandoned watch tower, she was grateful to have him at her back.

She hadn't thought about how tired she was until she drew her blade from the last bandit, the backward jerk of her arm reminding her that her muscles ached from all that practice. She dropped down onto an old chest and felt her shoulders sag a little.

"Maybe we should rest here awhile," she suggested, rifling through her pack for a bottle of ale. Wrenching the cork out, she tossed back a few swallows then held the bottle to her companion.

"Sounds good to me," Farkas shrugged, sitting down on the floor across from her.

After a long silence, during which she could hear the howling wind whispering through the tower above, Farkas cleared his throat and leaned forward a little, hands rested on his knees.

"So, did you really see a dragon destroy Helgen?"

A long, weary sigh deflated her chest as she leaned back into the wall behind her and drew her knees up. "Right before the Imperials were about to chop off my head," she said. "They'd captured Ulfric Stormcloak, and were going to put all of us to death, and this dragon just came out of nowhere and started tearing the town apart."

"Wow," Farkas nodded. "That sounds pretty intense. Why were the Imperials gonna chop off your head? Were you some kind of criminal? Not that it matters, I mean… I'm just curious."

"I attacked them after they killed my father for colluding with the Stormcloaks."

He didn't say anything for a long time, and then he asked, "Was he? Working with the Stormcloaks?"

"No," she shook her head. "My father was a blacksmith. An honest man who minded his own business, even though he was a true Nord at heart and would have taken up one of the swords he forged to fight by Ulfric's side if it wasn't for my mother and me. But he never even met Ulfric, and the Imperials accused him of harboring the man. When he wouldn't confess they killed him in cold blood right in front of us, and then they went for my mother…"

Her voice trailed off into the shadows, her mind carrying her back to that day. She'd never known such hate in her life, such agonizing, heart-wrenching pain. She could still see her father's face, his desperate eyes pleading with her to run for cover just before their light flickered out and the last breath eased from his chest.

"One day I will go to Windhelm and lay down my sword for Ulfric and show him I am a true Nord," she sat up straight, no longer feeling tired. "I'll die for Skyrim's freedom if I have to. It's what my father would have wanted."

"Is it?" Farkas's question was surprisingly thoughtful, though not as deep as she made it out to be. When he'd asked it, he was seeking confirmation of her statement, but it made her think beyond the words, about what her father would have really wanted for her.

A strong, loving husband…probably a man like Farkas who would provide her with a comfortable, safe home where she could raise her own children and live out the rest of her days never wanting for anything.

What would he think if he saw her there, a bloody sword tucked into the scabbard at her side, cold armor pressed up against her skin? Not but the clothes on her back and the cold walls of an abandoned tower to keep the wind at bay.

"Tell me about you," she said, tilting her head to look at him. The wall sconces didn't provide much light, but she could still see him, make out the edges of his strong jaw, the shadow of stubble on his chin and neck, the loose wave of hair resting against his cheek, warpaint around his eyes. "About you and your brother. How did you two become Companions? You said your father was a Companion…"

"I don't know, really. Maybe he was. Vilkas says he remembers a time before Jergen and Jorrvaskr, our parents. A little cottage just under Windhelm. I don't. I always thought Jergen was our father, but I guess I don't know if Vilkas says he wasn't. He says Jergen rescued us from necromancers, but he doesn't say much else about it."

"He doesn't say much at all, does he?" Though she supposed that wasn't entirely true. She'd known him less than two days, and he'd already said plenty of critical things in that time to make her feel small and insignificant.

"Vilkas?" he shrugged. "He talks to me all the time, though mostly I don't understand half of what he says. He's real smart, my brother. Skjor says Vilkas has the brains of Ysgramor, and I have his strength."

"You are pretty strong."

"Like an ox." Farkas smiled almost shyly, glancing down at his hands. "Why don't you get some rest. I'll stand guard."

"Maybe for just a few minutes. I want to get in and out of Bleak Falls Barrow and back to Whiterun."

"So you can collect your reward from Jarl Balgruuf and make your way to Windhelm, right."

"Something like that."

He stood up, stretching the muscles in his back before turning to face the window. "I may not be the smartest man, and I know you didn't ask for my advice, but maybe running off to Windhelm isn't such a good idea right now."

"No? And why's that?"

"You're angry and sad." He leaned against the window frame and gazed out into night as a whirlwind of snow swept by. "And I get that, I really do. If something ever happened to Vilkas…" he paused, his left fist clenching at his side so tight she heard the knuckles crack, "or one of my shield brothers or sisters, I don't know what I'd do. It wouldn't be pretty, I know that much. But I think maybe later I might regret it if I didn't take time to think it over and weigh out all the options. You know?"

She drew in a deep breath through her nose and released it through her mouth, her cheeks puffing and deflating as she rolled her forehead into the cold stone of the wall beside her. "You shouldn't let the others make fun of you for being dumb, Farkas," she said, closing her eyes.

"What do you mean?"

Chuckling, for the first time in weeks she genuinely smiled. "That's a smart thing you just said."

"Oh," he glanced back over his shoulder at her, his eyes shining in the torchlight. "You seem like a smart girl, Luthien," he said. "I just don't want to see you go looking for glory and honor in the wrong places, or for the wrong reasons and wind up finding nothing but trouble."

She didn't understand what he meant, or how he could think there was no glory or honor in fighting to avenge her father's death. Inside it felt like she could make all the pain go away if she watched every last Imperial die on the end of her blade. The only problem was, according to Vilkas, she barely knew how to hold a sword, much less wield one. If she rushed headlong into battle for Ulfric now, she'd likely end up dead long before the real fighting even started.

But if she kept training, kept taking in everything Vilkas and Farkas and the other Companions had to teach her, running jobs for them and honing her skills, maybe in a few weeks she'd be ready to ride for Windhelm and take her place among the Stormcloaks.

In the meantime, she would be a sponge, soaking up everything around her, learning everything her new Companions had to teach her about fighting… and living.


	6. Chapter 6

Bleak Falls Barrow wasn't an easy, in and out job. The bandits who'd taken up residence inside were tougher than those they'd encountered on the road, and the first draugr she saw nearly made her wet her armor. As it staggered toward her, its jaw dangling against the rotting flesh of its chest, she swore she heard it mutter curses at her. She'd heard stories about draugr, but much like Farkas when it came to dragons, she'd never believed the dead actually got up to fight again until she saw it with her own two eyes.

They found the thief who stole Lucan's golden claw quick enough, tangled up and left for dinner by a giant frostbite spider with a few missing legs and a really bad attitude. She thought Farkas was going to faint when the spider hissed poison in their direction, but Luthien had never minded spiders, and she dispatched that one pretty quickly, turning over her shoulder to make sure her companion was all right.

"Did it hit you?"

"No," he shook his head, drawing up to stand at his full height again. "Draugr, I can stand against, men, even dragons if they really exist, but spiders…" He shuddered, trying to shake the creeping feeling from his skin.

"Hopefully we won't run into any more of them," she said as they crept through the catacombs in search of the dragon stone.

"A person could get lost in a place like this," she swallowed her fear and scanned the carvings in the wall.

"It looks like that claw you found on the thief opens the gateway, but I can't even imagine what waits beyond that door," Farkas shuddered. "Probably another spider."

"Or more draugr," she gulped, studying the pattern on the claw.

"How bad do you think the jarl really needs that dragon rock thing he sent you here to find?"

"We've come this far," she said. "We might as well keep going." Holding up the claw, she studied the patterns that marked its handle. "These markings here, they look similar to the ones on the door. I'll bet it's a pattern."

Farkas leaned in to take a look, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Well, let's hope we get it right the first time. It looks like it's wired with a trap if you don't put in the right combination."

Luthien wasn't tall enough to reach the outer ring, so Farkas turned it to the bear symbol while she set the center ring to the moth and the inner ring to the owl. Stepping back to study the rings again, she glanced again at the claw in her hand. What if she'd gotten it backwards and she wound up dead before she even found the Dragon Stone?

"You want me to do it?" he asked.

"No," she shook her head. "You're a far more valuable asset to the world than I am. Step back, and if the trap triggers and I don't live, make up a far braver story to tell the Companions about how I died."

"Will do," he promised. From the corner of her eye, she saw him grin beneath his helm, and then she lined the claw in the center, pushed forward and turned it. Heavy stone began to roll and turn, dust showering down on them from above. She covered her face with her hand as she stepped back, bumping into Farkas, who held a hand out to steady her and the other over his mouth as he coughed.

"Looks like you're not gonna die after all," he said.

"Not this time, anyway."

The eerie chanting started just after she opened the gate, growing louder and louder as they drew nearer to the inner sanctum. She stopped, listening to the rising chorus of voices, and then glanced over her shoulder at Farkas.

"What is that?"

"What?"

"That weird chanting. Can't you hear it."

"I don't hear anything, which scares me a little more than it probably should."

She started forward again before he'd finished speaking, allowing the sound to draw her in its direction. The dark inner sanctum seemed empty when she scanned it, her gaze locking on the curved wall behind an old crypt. Something on the wall glowed, pulsing with a faint blue light, but from where she stood she couldn't quite see where the light was coming from.

"You can't hear that?" She took a few tentative steps forward. "It's getting louder."

"I don't hear a damn thing."

She was mid-step when Farkas yelled out behind her, "Watch out!" just moments after the lid of the sarcophagus broke free and a nasty draugr with a rotting grin climbed out with his sword arm at the ready. It lifted its free hand, a jet of icy air shooting from its palm as he growled and muttered curses at living.

There was no time to think, only act. She'd been carefully going through all the motions, demonstrating what Vilkas had taught her in the practice yard every time she'd come upon an enemy, but this draugr didn't give her a chance to process what she needed to do. Something inside her had wanted to do well, so the next time she saw him in the yard, she could show him she what she was made of.

Her body reacted without thinking, sword raising upward until the pommel rested just above her belly button, left foot pushing her off, right arm guiding as the left struck down hard. She pivoted, reversing her movements to hit the draugr again, as Farkas came in on the left and brought his own sword down. The draugr fell, twitching a few times before it was still again, the two of them standing over it catching their breath.

"I hope that's the last one," she muttered, more to herself than her companion. She glanced back up at the wall behind the sarcophagus, seeing now that the glowing blue lights there were letters. "What is that?" It seemed to draw her, more than just her curiosity, but her body longing to be near that strange wall.

"Luthien, wait," Farkas stepped up behind her. "It could be a rune trap."

But it was too late. She came upon the wall and swirls of iridescent blue and white flew from the stone whirled around her like a storm as her body absorbed whatever power had been there. It tingled through her, fire, ice, air, all of it at once, bombarding her senses until she stumbled back a little as the last of it flowed through her.

"Whoa," Farkas reached out to hold her steady. "What the hell just happened?"

"I… I don't know," she shook her head. "I felt really strange for a second, but I think it's passed now." Glancing around behind her, she walked back at the draugr they'd slain and searched it, finding the strange dragon stone Jarl Balgruuf and his court wizard had sent her to find. She tucked it into her pack and made for the unopened door. "I hope that's a way out," she said.

"Are you sure you're all right?"

"Fine," she nodded. "I just want to get out of here." But she wasn't fine. She didn't know what was wrong with her, or what had happened. All she knew was that she needed to get out of that crypt, and fast.

He followed her up the stairs, close on her heels as she headed out the side of the mountain and looked down at the world below. As soon as the fresh air hit her face, she felt refreshed, as if the great weight of darkness and despair that dwelt within Bleak Falls Barrow had been lifted from her shoulders and she could breathe again.

By the time they climbed down from the that overlook, the sun was halfway across the sky, most of the day already having passed.

They traveled back to Riverwood, and though she didn't let her excitement show, Lucan's reward was more than enough to hire a carriage to take her to Windhelm if she really wanted to go. She dropped the gold into her purse and then they proceeded to make their way back home to Whiterun. It was well past nightfall by the time they made it home.

"You go on ahead," she said, as they climbed the stairs to the Wind District. "I'm going to take this stone up to Farengar and collect my reward from Jarl Balgruuf."

Farkas stopped for a moment on the steps, avoiding her stare and glancing toward Jorrvaskr before turning to look at her. "You'll at least come and say goodbye before you run off to Windhelm, right?"

"I…" she reached down and untied her coin purse from her belt, handing it over to him. "Here. Maybe you could hold onto this for me until I get back to Jorrvaskr. I'm not going to Windhelm. Not yet, anyway. I thought about what you said, and even though it's killing me just knowing those Imperials are out there… I don't think I'm ready for war just yet."

"Wow," he nodded. "I think that's the first time anyone's ever taken advice from me."

She laughed. "It was good advice. You helped me look at it from a whole new perspective."

"So, I guess I'll see you later then?"

"I guess so."

After they parted ways, she headed up to Dragon's Reach to give Farengar the stone. There was a strange woman in his quarters, going over a map with him when she entered, but they both dropped everything they were doing when she handed him the stone.

"Excellent," Farengar eyed the artifact with appreciation and a hint of longing. "It's good to see the jarl actually found someone with a little initiative for once, and you did it quickly too. I'll make sure you are rewarded for a job well done, now if you'll excuse me…"

He hadn't finished his sentence when Irileth burst in, her attention immediately focusing on Luthien. "Good, you're back. There's been a dragon sighting over by the Western Watch Tower. The jarl needs your help."


	7. Chapter 7

The first thing she thought of, after she rushed out of Dragonsreach to head for the western tower, was wiping that smug look from Vilkas's face with the news. There was a petty niggling inside her that made her want to run straight into Jorrvaskr and drag him from his bed so he could see the dragon he didn't believe could possibly be there. And then she thought of Farkas, how much it would thrill him to stand against a dragon, but there wasn't time. She followed Irileth and the other guards through the gates, racing across the field toward the tower.

_Why me?_

That was her third thought, as she strung her bow with shaking fingers and aimed it at the great beast burning everything in its path from overhead. Its flames brushed close to her armor more than once, and she watched as it swooped down to grab one of the guards in its mighty maw, snapping the poor man in half before tossing his torso skyward and gnashing down to swallow what was left of him.

Her arms were so tired, she didn't know how she managed to unsheathe her blade and charge forward when the dragon landed, but even more surprising was the vigor with which she swung up onto its back and smashed the pommel of her sword down hard on its skull, a loud crack sounding in the night as its neck waved in attempt to shake her loose. The great beast wavered a little, its body rocking back and forth as it tried to regain its balance, which gave her the perfect opportunity to slam her sword down through its skull.

Vilkas would have been proud, she thought, then shook that thought from her mind. He probably would have found at least three ways she'd done it all wrong.

The dragon groaned and trembled, and from above she watched its serpent eyes flaring with disbelief just before it fell with a great thud that sent dust and clods of earth spraying down around everyone nearby. Luthien slid off the back, ignoring the scrape of its thick scales against the bare skin of her hands.

"Is it… really dead?" someone said behind her.

"I'm not getting close enough to find out."

And then it happened. The world wavered just a little before her as it had done in Bleak Falls Barrow when she'd came upon the wall, her feet stumbling as her whole body swayed against its massive power. Even more so than the strange word wall in Bleak Falls Barrow, this new whirlwind of power swept through her, tingling in her blood until her entire body felt warm and soft, as if she might melt right into the ground where she stood.

"What happened?"

"Could it… could it really be? I've heard rumors, old stories about the Dragonborn, but I never thought…"

"The Dragon…what?"

"The Dragonborn. You just absorbed that dragon's soul into your body. Can you speak the words of power, like the warriors of old? Can you dragonshout?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Luthien's head felt like it was swimming without the rest of her body.

"Try to shout."

She didn't know what the guard meant, but after a few others chimed in and told her to search inside herself for the power that must be there, she steadied herself and closed her eyes. She drew in a deep breath, summoning the word of power they claimed the Dragonborn could speak. It swelled up inside her like a strange fire, and when she shouted the word, "FUS!" everyone in front of her staggered back several steps, as if the power of her voice had moved them. She felt drained, as if all her life force had left her for a moment.

"You are the Dragonborn!" the guard cried.

"Do it again!" another pleaded.

"No," Irileth put a hand on her shoulder. "I don't know what just happened, and I don't think it's a good idea for you to try it again. Not until you know what it is inside you. I need you to head back up to Whiterun and report this to the jarl. Let him know the dragon has been slain."

She staggered away from the tower with her head in a cloud. She'd never felt so exhausted in her life, and as if Jarl Balgruuf knew this and wished to torment her, he seemed to go on and on for hours about what a great service she'd done for him. He wanted to make her a thane of Whiterun, and offer her property in the city when she was ready to settle down, but until then he gave her a housecarl all her own. But it was her asking him about the strange sound she'd heard on her way back to the Wind District, that rumbling of voices that felt like it shook the entire world, that had taken the most time.

Balgruuf said he didn't know if she really was Dragonborn, but if it was true, the Greybeards in High Hrothgar would want to see her. That rumbling had been them, calling out to her. If indeed, she was the Dragonborn, they could show her how to use the voice…

It was enough to make her head feel heavier than it already was, and her body ached so bad she was about to take up residence on Balgruuf's floor. When she was finally on her way out, her new housecarl approached her at the door, but she didn't know what to say to her when the woman proclaimed, "I am your sword and your shield."

"I'm not trying to be rude, or anything. I'm exhausted… what was your name again?"

"Lydia, my thane."

"Right, Lydia. I'm exhausted. I will come by and see you tomorrow."

"Whatever you wish, my thane."

_My thane_, she thought, heading down the stairs. She could tell that was going to get old real quick.

It was so late by the time she made it back to Jorrvaskr, she didn't expect to find anyone still awake, but Vilkas was there alone, a cup clutched loosely in his hand and his gaze locked on the fire in the center of the room. He looked up when the doors closed behind her, startled from the depths of his thought, and though at first she thought it was a smile toying with his lips, it quickly turned downward and he looked away.

"You took my brother on some side job with you today and didn't tell anyone where you were going."

"Farkas offered to come along," she said. "He didn't think it was a good idea for me to head over there on my own, and I accepted his offer. Turned out he was right. I would have never come back from there alive if I'd gone in by myself."

"If something had happened to him…"

"Nothing happened to him. Maybe you hadn't noticed, but your brother's a grown man. He can take care of himself."

She thought for a single second she'd quieted him, his eyes squinting in the firelight into two angry slits, the corners of his lips tightening until there were distinct stress lines around his mouth, and then he started to push away from the table and rise to stand. He took a few steps toward her and she felt a sudden urge to back up, but he didn't. "My brother may be a grown man, but he's still my brother. You might not have noticed, but he follows you around like a lost little puppy, waiting for you to throw him a bone. You make him reckless and stupid…"

"I don't make him do anything!" She held her ground, though she really wanted to back away, and then stepped forward until their faces were just a breath apart. "And if I hear one more person call him stupid, I'll crack their skull myself, brother or not. None of you give him any credit for anything, and you of all people should be ashamed for the way you treat him."

That did shut him up, his lips moving but no sound coming out as he found himself backing up as he tried to think of something clever to say. Nothing came.

"He had my back out there today like a true friend, and I am grateful for that. You're right. Maybe we should have told someone where we were going, I get that, but to insinuate that I made him come along, as though I was purposely trying to get him killed…"

"That isn't what I said. You're twisting my words."

"Just like you twisted my intentions into something they never were." Shaking her head, she turned her body right, toward the stairs. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm tired. I just spent the last few hours defending Whiterun from a dragon attack and I'd like to get some sleep."

Vilkas let her go, not saying another word as she walked away and headed down the stairs into the bunkhouse to drop onto the first empty bed she came to with a raging sigh. After everything that had happened that day… the draugr, the dragon, finding out she could shout because she was some Dragonborn, whatever that was, all she could think about when she laid down in a huff and jerked the thin blanket up over her body, was Vilkas.

Every muscle in her was tight with fury, every thought in her mind glared red and angry until she felt like she would explode.

_Vilkas! Ugh!_

Just thinking his name to herself made her want to scream. Who in the name of the Nine Divines did he think he was?

She slept, though not well, and found herself up just after the sun the next morning and out in the practice yard to hack away at dummies with her sword before anyone else had stirred. Every strike rattled through her arms, into her bones, but it made her feel better. After a while, she put her sword away and wrapped her hands, punching at the dummies as she thought about Vilkas. His smug face, his arrogant tone, his stupid, stupid… "Gah!" she growled, hammering her tight fist into the dummy's painted, straw face and ignoring the burn in her knuckles.

"Fierce," an appreciative female voice said from behind her. "I like a woman who's not afraid to get up at the crack of dawn to take out her frustrations on a dummy."

Luthien took a step back and glanced over her shoulder to see Aela standing there with her hands on her hips. "I didn't think anyone was up yet."

"I like to get up early sometimes and head out to the woods to hunt. I came up to see if Ria wanted to come out with me, but she's still asleep. So, how about it? Are you game?"

"Hunting?"

"Sure," she shrugged. "I know where there's a bear den that's just begging to be cleaned out. What do you say? Wanna go take some of those frustrations out on a living creature and put some food on the table at the same time?"

"Okay," she agreed.

She grabbed her bow and followed Aela down through the quiet streets of Whiterun and past the sleepy guards at the front gate. The morning was quiet, and she could hear the birds calling to each other in the trees as they walked. It made her feel peaceful and calmed the frayed edges of her nerves, making her instantly glad she'd come along.

"I heard about the dragon attack last night," Aela said. "You were there?"

"Yes."

"I've never hunted dragon," she chuckled a little to herself. "Probably because until a few days ago, they didn't seem to exist anymore. But I'd like to, one day. Was it big?"

"It was."

"Ferocious?"

"I watched it tear a guard in half and gulp him down still screaming as a river of blood rained down on everyone below."

"That's fantastic." Her face lit up with awe. "Not for the guard of course, but you know what I mean. Nevertheless, I wish I'd been there."

"It was definitely something I'll never forget."

"So, is that why you were up so early this morning, hacking and slashing? Got a little dragon rage burning under your skin?"

"No, I don't know. Maybe."

"Well, whatever it was, you certainly looked like you needed to get out of Jorrvaskr for a bit. Wait, let me guess… Vilkas is giving you a hard time?" When she didn't answer, Aela laughed. "I should have known. Just ignore him. He's… a good guy. A little uptight sometimes, but he means well and he's fiercely protective of that little brother of his, even if Farkas is almost twice his size. Right now you're just a whelp in his eyes, but once he gets to know you, gets used to having you around and feels like you've proven yourself, he'll grow on you."

Luthien highly doubted time, or anything else for that matter, would ever make Vilkas grow on her, but she didn't say anything about it. Instead, she geared up her mind for the hunt, falling quietly into Aela's footsteps as they scaled the mountainside searching for sign of bear scat and markings.

A pack of wolves came in, teeth bared and snarling, but when Aela turned her eyes on them, they yelped and ran back in the direction they'd come from. Luthien stepped back and looked at her, marveling at the unspoken display of power and muttered, "Talos," under her breath. "How did you do that?"

"Maybe I'll show you someday. Come on, the den's up here."

There were three of them, a mother and two cubs that were probably no more than a year old. Aela took out the mother with her bow, but the sharp growl of their mother falling alerted the cubs and though they were smaller, it didn't make them any less vicious. Luthien steadied her aim and drew the arrow back, taking down the female cub while Aela dropped the male, but as they approached the found the female still alive, trying to claw the arrow from its stomach. Aela shot at close range, her arrow going right through the cub's skull and putting it out of its misery.

"Nice work," she grinned over at Luthien. "You show skill with a bow, but you could use a little more practice."

"Maybe you could show me a few tricks."

"Definitely, but for now, I've got a little New Blood work for you." Her eyebrow arched up, green eyes glowing in the stark black paint across her face. "Gut and skin all three of these and get as much meat from the cubs as you can carry."

"All right," Luthien nodded.

"Find me back at Jorrvaskr when you're done and we'll have Tilma make a big pot of bear stew for dinner."

"Wait, where are you going?"

"I'm not done hunting." Her grin lit up her whole face, and then she darted further up the hill, the sound of her already quiet footsteps soon become nonexistent until Luthien found herself alone there with their kills.

She'd never skinned a bear before… well, truth be told, she'd never skinned anything and she had no idea what was she doing. She carved out choice cuts of meat though, wrapping them in the cloth of the Stormcloak Cuirass she'd worn all the way from Helgen, and packing them into her satchel until she could fit no more inside. The skins were nicked, parts of the fur torn through from her blade, but she carried all three of them down the mountainside for Aela to inspect anyway, knowing she had more to learn than just fighting skills if she wanted to make it in the world on her own.

By the time she made it back to Whiterun, she was covered in sweat and dried blood and she smelled worse than the bearskins she carried, but she realized as the guards held the gate open for her to pass through that she hadn't thought about Vilkas since earlier that morning. A slow smile dawned on her lips as she ignored the stares of the villagers when she passed by and headed up to Jorrvaskr with a feeling of pride in her heart.

A/N: This story is already complete, and has been posted on my website in its entirety, along with the majority of the sequel, Riding the Storm, which I will probably not post here as it is much more adult. I wrote the entire 58,000 word novel in 5 days while I was at work. I wrote it for myself and for fun. If you're enjoying it, fantastic. I'm glad you like it. If you're not, that's fine too. We can't all share the same imaginative vision. That's the beauty of fanfiction.

Happy writing, reading and may the gods watch over your battles, friend.


	8. Chapter 8

She discovered rather quickly that the best way to steer clear of Vilkas was to take jobs from Skjor, Aela and Farkas and make herself as scarce as possible. The less she saw of him, the less his scowl bothered her, but what did bother her was the fact that everything she did, she seemed to do in hopes of garnering the approval that would finally make her "grow" on him, like Aela had said.

At night, she and Farkas drank in the hall, or down at the inn with Torvar and her new housecarl, Lydia, and by day she ran job after job when she wasn't training in the yard. She watched her purse grow fat and heavy with coin, but her longing to run off to Windhelm seemed to wane the heavier her purse got. The vengeance was still there, and sometimes when she spied the Imperial-loving Battleborns down by the merchant's circle, it made her stomach churn, but she wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do.

Returning late one night from a job Skjor had sent her on, she found him sitting by the fire in the main hall alone. He barely noticed her when she came in, but looked up as she approached and nodded approval when she told him the job was done and without any bloodshed.

"You're doing well, New Blood. You've brought honor to the Companions and yourself. If you keep this up, we will gladly call you sister sooner, rather than later."

"Thank you, Skjor."

"Sit down, have a drink with me," he said, gesturing to the seat across the table from him. Luthien sat and took the flagon of ale he passed to her, thirstily washing the dust of the road from her throat. "So, what's your story? You haven't gone to join the Stormcloaks yet. Did you change your mind?"

"For now," she nodded. "I've got enough on my plate here to keep my mind off the things that won me to Ulfric's cause, for the time being anyway." Her father was never far from her mind, and her longing for vengeance still burned inside her, but most days it felt like someone had turned the flame down enough for her to bear it without as much pain.

"There are better ways for a good warrior to die than fighting for a cause they don't fully understand, or even believe in," Skjor said. "Not that I don't think you are a strong Nord woman at heart who truly believes Skyrim belongs to the Nords. Ulfric's cause is noble, but his motives, maybe not so much. Which is not to say the Imperials are much better, and the Thalmor… don't even get me started on them… Still, it's always a good idea to weigh out both sides before you choose one." He swallowed what was left in his cup and brought it down hard onto the table, reaching for a bottle to refill it again before topping hers off.

"Farkas says you were a Blade once, that you and Kodlak led 40,000 warriors against the Aldmeri during the Great War."

"40,000 now, is it? That number gets higher every time I hear it," he laughed. "Nevertheless, that's how I lost my eye," he explained. "Not that I'd take a single day of that back. It was a glorious fight, one I was proud to be a part of, but I'll tell ya, I do miss that eye." She watched his good eye scan her face for a moment, as if waiting for her to react, and then he bellowed laughter. As he came down off the high of his own amusement, he nestled back into the chair and released a long, loud sigh. "I guess what I'm trying to say here, girl, is that you need to understand who you are before you rush in to fight someone else's war. Right now, you're bringing honor to yourself, to the Companions, and making a name with your deeds. That's a good thing, but if you do decided to go to war on day, make sure you do it for yourself, to defend your values, your honor, your family… Not because some blowhard with a lust for power tells you his cause is the one that's right. You get what I'm saying?"

"I think so," she nodded, not sure why he'd felt the need to wax philosophical with her, but glad he seemed to be warming to her.

"Good. Now, I feel the call of the moons, and like the warmth of true Nord mead and the come hither eyes of a beautiful woman, I can never refuse its calling, so if you'll excuse me, I think I'm headed out to enjoy the feel of its light on my face. Keep up the good work, New Blood."

After handing over her payment, she crept quietly down the stairs, fully intent on falling into the first open bed she could find, but as she walked through the hall she heard raised voices.

"It isn't right. It's a curse, and no one should be forced to bear it, Aela."

"No one is forcing anything on anyone, Vilkas. It's a choice, just like it was for you once. She's proven herself to me and Skjor, and we think she's ready for one final test. It is the way of things. The way the Companions have done things for generations now."

"I don't know, Aela. Maybe Vilkas is right," she recognized Farkas's voice. "Maybe we should just leave her out of it."

"And if Vilkas said it was a great idea, you'd probably go along with that too. When are you going to learn to think for yourself, Farkas and stop listening to everything your brother tells you is right? You told me she held her own that day in the barrow, and she's come back from countless jobs for me unscathed more times than I can count on both hands in the last few weeks. She could be an even more valuable asset to us with the blood. A true shield-sister and worthy member of the inner-circle."

They were talking about her, about inviting her to some inner-circle, and wouldn't it figure that Vilkas didn't want her to be a part of it. Gods, why did he hate her so much? She'd barely even crossed paths with him in the last few weeks, and yet he still hated her. Could she do nothing to make him see she was worthy?

"Skjor wants to test her," Aela said. "He was down at the inn earlier talking to Ulfberth and the War-Bear says she slayed another dragon on her way back from a job Farkas sent her to in Rorikstead. A dragonslayer… Vilkas. If that doesn't make her a valuable asset to the Companions, to the inner-circle, I don't know what else will. Skjor says…"

"Tell me, Aela, if Skjor wanted you to head to Dragonbridge tomorrow and throw yourself off into the rocks below, would you think that was a good idea too? When are_you_ going to learn to think for yourself and not let your woman's feelings for the old warrior cloud your judgment?"

"I'll put an arrow through you if you ever say that again."

"She _is_ a good warrior, Vilkas," she heard Farkas say in an attempt to cool the tension in the room.

"Then if she's already a good warrior as you say, why would she need the blood?"

"Vilkas is right, Aela."

"Vilkas is wrong." Aela's tone held mockery and scorn. "It is a gift, and it seems that thanks to Kodlak, you've both forgotten that…"

Their voices grew louder, but Luthien walked away. She could still hear them when she found an empty bed and crawled into it, Vilkas shouting, Farkas mumbling, Aela railing back at them both for denying their true nature. She didn't know what any of it meant, but it sounded like something she should care about. As soon as she grew still, however, the fatigue in her muscles overwhelmed her, the heaviness inside her head soon dropped down over the rest of her like a dark blanket until the world was no more and she slept.

She didn't know how long it was that the cocoon held her tight in its embrace. A few minutes, hours, maybe. She woke with a start, as if something sharp had poked her in the shoulder, and when she jumped upward she found Vilkas standing at the edge of her bed with his arms crossed.

"Good, you're awake."

Had he just jabbed her with his sword to wake her up? Reaching up to rub the sleep from her eyes, she ran a hand into her hair, fingers catching on her braid as she glanced around the room. Torvar was still sleeping two bunks down, but he seemed to be the only one.

"I have an important job for you, and I need you to get started on it right away."

"Okay," she nodded, hoping to jar the sleep from her brain with the movement. "What do you need me to do?"

"It would seem the justice system in the Rift has just about as many holes as their fishing nets," he began. "A dangerous criminal has escaped from their custody, and I need you to hunt him down. At this point, they don't give a damn if he lives or dies, and neither do I. They just want him taken care of, if you understand my meaning."

"I can do that," she said.

"Good." He turned away and started for the door, stopping to glance back over his shoulder at her. For a moment their eyes met, and she thought she saw something softer inside them, but then he spoke again, a hard edge in his tone that obliterated any thoughts of him actually being kind to her. "Hurry up. I don't want you to waste any time. Is that understood?"

"Of course."

"Oh, and Whelp," he called after her as he was walking away. "Be careful. This man is dangerous, and there's no telling what he'll do to try and escape."

That much was true. The orc was massive, and his skills were much more honed than hers, but his size against her quickness tired him out, and in the end, she'd managed to take care of the business she'd come to carry out.

She was glad that she'd actually taken some time to wander around Riften while she was there. The town was filthy and it stunk of fish and stagnant water, but at least Vilkas wasn't there scowling at her. He probably would have been happy if she'd just stayed there, taken up residence in the Ratway with the brigands and thieves, who, judging from the desperate plea from one of their leader, would have gladly taken her in among them. And he was attractive too, with a sweet brogue as he called her lass and tried to tempt her with the promise of more coin than she could ever dream filling her pockets.

She said no thanks, and that seemed to put him off, as she sidled up to the bar and ordered a mug of Black-Briar mead. An animated priest in the center of the Inn caught her attention, reminding her of the priest in Whiterun, Heimskr, who could often be found shouting out in desperation for the love and praise of almighty Talos. Maramal wasn't as animated as Heimskr, but he sure didn't seem to think much of the sins and corruption of Riften.

When she approached and offered him tithes to the Temple of Mara, he thanked her and asked if she was married.

Marriage, as if she was ever going to have time to even look for a man, much less marry one, with the Companions running her from one corner of Skyrim to the other like a horse. He laughed, and explained to her things she already understood, but hadn't ever really thought much about. Life in their world was short, especially for an adventurer like her, but a marriage partner could bring comfort to a weary soul and warmth on long, cold nights. In the end, he convinced her to buy an amulet of Mara, a sigil that would let the world know she was unmarried, and she put it on as she was leaving the Inn. At least she'd have it, when the time was right, and who knew, maybe some handsome farmer's son in one of the dirt poor towns she visited would notice it after she took down the dragon burning his farmstead to ash and offer to take her away from the humdrum affairs of her everyday life.

She told herself that all the work she was doing for them was probably a good thing. Maybe if she did a good job, Vilkas would finally lighten up on her, but when she returned to tell him she'd taken care of the criminal, he didn't even compliment her on a job well done, not like Skjor had done. Instead, he handed her a cut of the payment and immediately sent her off on another job. This time she was locating some lost family heirloom and retrieving it from a den of supposed vampires.

There was no supposed about it in the end. She'd been glad she'd actually taken the time to grab Lydia from Dragonsreach before she left. She'd never come face to face with vampires before, and she'd been grateful for the backup.

Was Vilkas trying to get her killed, she wondered? It sure seemed that way when she and Lydia made their way back to Jorrvaskr and he met her outside the doors with another incredibly important job that needed done. Rescuing some girl from Markarth who'd been kidnapped by necromancers.

"They were really vampires, by the way," she said, handing over the dwarven sword he'd sent her to get.

"Give that to me. They've asked for the utmost discretion in this matter. I'll return it."

"Actual vampires," she ignored him. "Not supposed vampires. Not a bunch of people who wished they were vampires. The real deal."

"You seem to have come out of it one piece." He looked her over. "No worse for wear. You didn't contract Sanguinare Vampiris, did you?"

"I carry potions with me," she said. "I think I'm clean."

"Good, then you'll be fit to carry out this next job quickly. I shudder to think what could happen if you waste any time."

"I haven't slept in days, Vilkas," she started. "Isn't there someone else you could send on this job? Ria, maybe? Torvar?"

"When you came here, you told Kodlak you wanted to bring honor to the Companions." He crossed his arms and glared down the length of his nose at her. "Turning down important jobs is not exactly honorable, especially a job as touchy as this. A girl's life is at stake, but if you want to pass the buck on to someone else I will just go and do it myself."

She drew in a deep breath and let the cold air burn in her lungs for a spell before exhaling a sigh. It'd be a rare thing if he did something himself, she thought, but in the end she didn't say that to him. "Fine, I'll handle it."

"That's more like it, Whelp. Get to it. There's no time to waste."

She trudged back down the steps into the Wind District with Lydia at her back, muttering under her breath and mocking his self-importance as she marched down into Belethor's General Goods to trade in some of the odds and ends she'd picked up on her last two jobs.

"I don't understand what his problem is." She ranted as they passed through the Whiterun gates. She drew out her map to inspect it and then glanced up to get her bearings.

"Who's problem, my thane?"

"Vilkas. I think he's trying to get me killed. When was the last time we slept, Lydia, and I don't just mean a quick catnap on the side of the road? Four, five days ago?"

"I don't remember, my thane." She followed at a steady pace behind Luthien, always scanning the horizon for danger. "I hope you'll forgive me for speaking bluntly, but perhaps he is testing you for something greater."

"You're always welcome to speak freely with me," she said. "But in this case, I think you're wrong, Lydia. Vilkas hasn't liked me since day one, and he's always pushing me. Either he's trying to get me killed, or he wants me to quit."

"Or maybe he sees great potential in you, my thane, and he is simply pushing you to be the best that you can be."

"You're supposed to be _my_ housecarl, Lydia. That means you take _my_ side in all matters." She snorted a laugh over her shoulder and watched Lydia's tight lips twitch at the edges. "If I say Vilkas is trying to kill me, you pull out your sword and insist we go and put him in his proper place–a funeral pyre."

"I am sworn to carry your burdens," she added a mock hint of begrudging to her tone.

Over the last few weeks, the two of them had spent nearly every waking moment together, and as she got to know her new housecarl, she found herself growing fonder and fonder of the woman. She had a quick wit and a good sense of humor, even if she did seem far too serious at times.

She went on and on about it as they walked, Lydia following close and listening as Luthien unloaded, going off about his smug face, and how good it would probably feel to punch him in the teeth. "I've been practicing a lot, you know, and I may not be as good as him, but I bet I could still knock him on his ass before he slaughtered me. And don't even get me started on the whole Dragonborn thing. I should have gone to High Hrothgar weeks ago to find out what the Greybeards could tell me, but instead I'm running errands for Vilkas like some milk-drinker lackey. He probably thinks that whole thing's a joke. How could I ever be the Dragonborn? How could I ever be anything but his errand girl?"

"You could have said no to him, my thane, told him that as much as you respect him and wish to please him, you need time for yourself too."

"I do not want to please him," she growled. "I want to make him suffer."

Lydia ignored her last statement. "I understand that you are helping bring honor to the Companions, but there is no dishonor in following your greater path from time to time. If you truly are the Dragonborn, and all the evidence seems to be pointing in that direction, then your destiny lies beyond Jorrvaskr and the things you do to bring peace and honor to Skyrim will bring the Companions more glory than they could possibly imagine."

"I like you, Lydia," she paused and cocked her head northwest, hearing the distant warning growl of a cavebear in the mountains. "You see far greater things in me than I could ever see myself. If only Vilkas could see what you see."

"He will, my thane," she promised. "In fact, I think he already does."

Before Luthien could ask her to elaborate, a sabercat barreled down the mountainside and pounced, unleashing a mighty roar meant to send them running for the hills. Luthien drew out her sword and Lydia followed, the two of them charging into that small battle together. By the time the cat was dead, the rush of adrenaline had taken over and she slowly began to forget about why she was so mad at Vilkas. After a while, she didn't think about him at all and the last shards of anger dwelling in her gut diminished until all she cared about was finishing the job at hand.


	9. Chapter 9

It was five days before she returned to Jorrvaskr. She and Lydia had stopped at a tavern in Markharth after delivering the girl to her family, and spent the night there drinking, feasting and finally catching up on all the sleep they'd lost over the last few weeks. She was still tired when they arrived in Whiterun, a part of her believing she would never know the comfort of true rest again, especially if Vilkas had plans to run her right back out of town on another job.

He wasn't waiting for her outside, as he had been the last few times, and though she expected him to nearly tackle her as soon as she walked through the doors, it was Farkas who grabbed her instead.

"You're back!" His whole face seemed to light up when he saw her, a nice change from his brother's annoyed expression whenever she walked through the doors. "I was starting to think you finally made good on those threats to run up to Windhelm to join the Stormcloaks, but Vilkas said you were out running a few jobs for him, bringing honor to the Companions and all that."

"Something like that," she mumbled, scanning the mead hall for his brother. "Where is he? I finished the last job he sent me on, and I want to collect my pay."

"He's out back in the yard, but Skjor wants to see you first. He said if I saw you anywhere, I was to bring you to him immediately and that whatever else you need to do, it can wait."

"Skjor? What does he want?"

"He has a job for us to do, a final test for you to prove yourself worthy of becoming a true Companion."

"Oh." She brightened, probably a little more than she should have, at the prospect of telling Vilkas no if he asked her to run headlong into a ruin filled with Falmer who wanted nothing more than to poison her to death and feast on her flesh. "Where is he?"

"Out in the yard, come on."

She and Lydia followed Farkas through the back doors into the yard behind Jorrvaskr. She was immediately drawn to Vilkas, who looked up from deflecting a one-handed attack from Athis that actually caught him off guard and sent him staggering backward and stumbling over his own feet just a little.

"Ha! I got you that time."

"It was a lucky shot, that's all." Vilkas shrugged it off, rolling his shoulders beneath his armor and righting himself again. "I'm taking a break. Keep practicing, Athis."

"I thought you said a true Nord never takes breaks?" Athis grinned, but Vilkas was not amused. Nothing ever seemed to make him smile, or laugh. It must have been miserable being him, she thought, and while that was supposed to amuse her, it actually made her feel a little sad.

He started walking toward them, but stopped in his tracks as Farkas led her straight to Skjor, who was running a whetstone along the edge of his blade.

"There you are, girl. We were starting to think you got lost on your way back from Markharth. I trust your last job went well."

"It did," she nodded.

"Good. After you tie up any loose ends you have here, I have a very important job for you. A job that will determine your future among the Companions."

"What is this job, sir?"

"Send your housecarl home," he nodded over her shoulder. "This is official Companion business, and you won't be needing her."

"Lydia," she turned toward the woman, who just nodded dutifully and promised that she would wait for her back in Dragonsreach.

Skjor didn't speak again until Lydia was gone from the yard, but then he cleared his throat. "We had a visitor last week, a scholar who'd been out in the field doing a bit of research for us on the missing fragments of Ysgramor's Blade. It seems he's located one up in Dustman's Cairn and we want you to go and retrieve it for us. Farkas will be your shield-brother."

"Is that everything? We just retrieve the shard from the Cairn?"

"As if that's not enough of a job," Skjor shook his head. "You've been running jobs for us for quite some time, proving yourself, but this is your last trial, New Blood. Your final chance for glory before we decide whether or not you're worthy of naming yourself a true Companion. Head up there now, get in, get the job done and report back to me immediately."

"I can do that."

"Good," he nodded. "I'm counting on you, Luthien. We're all counting on you." It was the first time anyone but Farkas had actually called her by name. She'd been New Blood or Whelp since she'd first come to Jorrvaskr, but the fact that Skjor even knew her name at all made something inside of her swell with pride and a newfound willingness to please.

"I won't let you down."

"We'll see about that." A sly grin drew at the corner of his mouth. "Oh, and try not to get Farkas killed, would ya?"

She smiled and glanced back over her shoulder at Farkas, who was already rocking back and forth on his heels, eager and ready to head off on their next adventure togther. "Ready to go, Shield-Brother?" she asked, watching him bounce.

"You bet! Let's go kick some draugr ass!"

"We've done it before," she laughed. "We'll do it again."

Her smile began to fade as she spied Vilkas over Farkas's shoulder, and he was walking toward them with that self-important scowl of his. "What?" Farkas noticed her sudden lack of enthusiasm. "Not afraid of a few draugr now, are you?"

"No, it's not that." She shook her head. "You go get your gear, and I'll meet you out front in a few minutes. I have to report to Vilkas before we go."

He approached, clapping his brother on the shoulder just before Farkas parted, calling after him, "May the gods watch over your battles, brother."

"And yours," Farkas replied, slipping through the doors.

Glancing around the yard, she suddenly realized they were alone. How did that always seem to happen whenever Vilkas was near her? It was like everyone else saw them approach one another, and they just disappeared to avoid the fallout. Inside, she felt her stomach nervously twist, and for a moment she avoided looking up into his expectant eyes.

"I finished that job you sent me on. Rescued the girl and escorted her safely back to Markharth."

"So I heard," he nodded. "Here," he held out a bag of coin to her. "Your share of the reward."

"Thank you."

She started to back away, thinking their conversation was done, but he began speaking again, the sound of his voice holding her in place. "Keep my brother safe out there."

"Chances are he'll be the one keeping me safe."

He squinted a little, his mouth tightening as he pursed his lips together. "That doesn't make me feel any better about sending him off on this quest with you. A shield-sister should always put her sibling first."

"Of course I will," she stammered. "I just meant… I mean, he's… Oh, what does it matter what I meant. It seems that no matter what I say, you find a way to turn it around on me so I look like a fool."

She watched his left eyebrow arch, the right one drop as he took a step backward, stunned speechless for a second. "Is that what you think? That I deliberately look for ways to make you seem the fool?"

"Isn't that just the way things are?"

"No, it isn't the way things are. If I've made you feel a fool, then it is because you were acting like a fool, but since you've come here, I've done nothing but try to help you be the warrior waiting somewhere inside you to awaken."

"Is that what you were doing? Helping me? It felt more like you were trying to get me killed."

"We need strong, able-bodied men and women among our ranks, not scared little girls afraid of the shadows that lurk in their own past."

Luthien's throat tightened around a heavy lump that made it hard for her to breathe. "You know nothing," she swallowed hard, "about my past."

"Don't I?" He tilted his head, the lack of animosity in his voice catching her off-guard. There was a hint of softness in his tone, almost as if he understood her for a moment and wanted her to know that. "You think my brother doesn't tell me everything? We are brothers, twins. We share a bond unlike anything you could ever begin to imagine. He couldn't have kept your secrets from me if he tried."

"My secrets are my own." She lifted her face in defiance, hoping he saw the unspoken rage that burned inside her.

"If you wish to keep your secrets safe," he leaned close to her, so close she could feel that strange heat radiating from his body as his cheek lingered near hers, breath pulsing across the sensitive skin of her ear as he finished, "then perhaps you shouldn't whisper them in my brother's ear."

"I have a job to do." She stepped back from him, refusing to let him keep her there in that strange space any longer.

"Yes," he nodded. "You do."

As she turned her back on him, she was surprised to hear him call out to her just before she opened the doors to head inside. "May the gods watch over your battles," and then he added under his breath, "friend." She barely heard it, but she was sure he said it, even if she didn't understand why.

She swallowed again, her throat burning, her mind churning with such confusion she thought her head would explode. "And yours," she pushed through the doors and rushed off to find Farkas, who was eagerly waiting for her on the other side.


	10. Chapter 10

Farkas was far more animated as they traveled than he had been during their last excursion, babbling on for what felt like hours and hours about everything that had happened in the time she'd been off running jobs for Vilkas. Supposedly Ria had killed a bear, and Torvar had gotten into a drunken brawl with some Redguards who'd come into town looking for a woman. The Redguards had gotten kicked out of Whiterun, and Torvar had spent the night in a cell, sleeping it off.

"Vilkas and I had to run over to Riften to take care of some thieves."

"Sounds like you kept yourself busy."

She wasn't purposely trying to shut him out, or give him the cold shoulder, but she was still angry about what Vilkas had said to her. The worst part was, she didn't even know why she was angry. So what if he knew about her past. It wasn't like she'd ever really tried to hide it, or asked Farkas not to tell anyone, though the greater part of her had hoped he would keep their conversations to himself. She'd shared a lot of private things while wallowing in her cups with him, but she supposed that was her own fault for not asking him to keep it quiet. Besides, he probably would have still told Vilkas. He seemed to tell his brother everything.

"I guess you and Vilkas had a lot of time to talk on your trip." She stepped up onto a boulder to stretch her gaze out over the land they were headed into.

"Well, yeah, though he was pretty quiet. I think there's something heavy on his mind, but he hasn't wanted to talk about what's really bothering him for a while now. I've never seen him like this. I mean, he's always been moody, but it's been really deep lately."

She had to bite her tongue to keep from lashing out that Farkas seemed to have no trouble flapping his gums about anything and everything that popped into his mind. It was getting harder and harder to remember that it wasn't him she was annoyed with, even if he had unwittingly played a small part in instigating her irritation.

It always came back to that one little thought. Vilkas, and why she gave a damn what he thought about her. Sure, she worked with him, well… for him, and if she passed this little trial Skjor had set her to, there might even come a time when she and Vilkas had to work side-by-side for the Companions, which could pose a problem if they couldn't find a way to resolve whatever it was stirring the air between them.

She jumped down off the boulder and started sprinting across the land, not even looking back over her shoulder to make sure Farkas was keeping up. Vilkas would have loved that, her leaving Farkas in the dust to fend for himself. She just wanted to run, to get away from her thoughts, which no matter where she turned lately always seemed to somehow revolve around Vilkas. The worst part was the more time she spent with Farkas lately, the more being around him seemed to remind her of his brother. The twins might have had very obvious differences, but they were still twins, and every time she looked into Farkas's eyes, she saw Vilkas lurking in him.

Gods! She hated him… no, that wasn't quite it. Loathed him, maybe? But that didn't feel right either. What was it about that man that made it impossible to shut him out of her mind?

By the time Farkas caught up to her, the stone circle surrounding the underground cairn was just within view, a small lip beckoning from the horizon. She slowed down to catch her breath. She felt like she'd been running nonstop for weeks. Digging a bottle of mead out of her pack, she swigged it down, allowing its warmth to course through and refresh her.

"You're eager to dive into this," he noted, bending down to rest his hands on his knees as he steadied his own breathing. "That's good."

"What can we expect in there?" she asked.

"Draugr, mostly."

"Good," she nodded, smearing the droplets of mead from her lips with the back of her hand. "I'm in the mood to smash skulls."

"So I noticed," he said, holding out his hand to take the bottle from her. Tilting open the shield on his helmet, he slugged back a few deep swallows, returned it to her and stood up straight, arching his back to stretch his muscles. "Something on your mind you want to get off your chest before we head off to meet with Death?"

"What are you now, a priest?"

"Talos be praised," he grinned, but Luthien didn't laugh. Her lack of amusement quickly burned the smile from his lips, and though the others might have believed he was slow to the uptake, his heart made him far more intuitive to the feelings of the people around him. She'd seen it time and time again when they were drinking together. He felt things other people didn't feel, though he didn't like to admit it too often, for fear it made him look like a sissy. "What's wrong, Luthien? You've been quiet since we left Whiterun. Are you worried you won't pass Skjor's little test?"

"No."

"Then what? Is it me? Did I do something?"

_Only tell your brother everything you know about me so he could turn it around and use it against me_… she thought, glancing away from his fretful gaze. He really was like a puppy sometimes, his fierce loyalty and eagerness to please making it impossible to look at him without feeling guilty for thinking a single bad thought about him.

"It isn't you, Farkas. It's just… It's nothing. I'm fine." She crouched down, her armor clattering in protest of that unnatural stance. She scooped a handful of dirt and pebbles into her palm and allowed them to sift through the cracks between her fingers.

"You don't seem fine." He stood above her, his shadow fallowing across her. "Did Vilkas say something to upset you when you were talking out in the yard?"

"Vilkas always says thing that upset me."

"I don't think he means to," he said. "He likes you. I know he does."

Her mouth tightened into a scowl, and though she tried to hide it from him, it was too late. He'd already seen it.

"He really does. He told me."

She pushed up from the ground and wiped her dusty hands on the skirt of her armor. "He has a real funny way of showing it then." Picking up her feet, she headed toward the cairn, Farkas following behind her.

"Oh my gods. That's it, isn't it?" he asked. "Why you're always working so hard to please him."

"What are you talking about? I don't try to please him."

"Yes, you do. Running his sword to the forge for him, practicing in the yard until your arms nearly fall off just to get his attention, jumping at every job he gives you. You like him, don't you?" Before she could respond, telling him he was being a complete idiot, he went on. "And I don't mean like him, like you like me and Torvar, or Skjor and Aela, even. When we first met, I kind of hoped you might like me like that someday, but after all the time we've spent together this last couple months, I realized you didn't and you probably never would. I'm okay with that. At first I thought it was just because you were so dead set on joining the Stormcloaks, you didn't want to bog yourself down with some dumb guy's affections, but you stuck around anyway, and I think I finally figured out why." He seemed so proud of himself that it took him a minute to actually share his revelation. "You're in love with Vilkas, and you've been trying so hard to get him to notice you."

"Okay, now you _are_ being dumb, Farkas," she sneered over her shoulder at him.

"So you _do_ like me like that?" he jested, wagging his eyebrows, a hokey grin spreading wide across his face. "That's why you really stuck around. I noticed you were wearing an amulet after you came back from that job a few weeks back. You want to go down to Riften when we finish up here? Head into the temple of Mara and tie the knot with me?"

"Don't be ridiculous," she snorted, hiking down the stairs. "Where is this even coming from?"

"I think it's pretty obvious. You brood almost as much as he does after you've been in a room with him too long. It's like you two were made for each other."

"I think you should shut up now, before I bash my shield into your face."

His grin widened even more, and as she turned to reach for the door handle, he said, "If it's any small comfort, he notices you every time you walk through the doors. Sometimes I think he sits up in the hall all night drinking alone and waiting for you to come back."

"Shut up, Farkas."

"He thinks you're pretty," he went on, as if she hadn't even spoken. "Though I think the word he used was breathtaking. As in… you take his breath away."

That strange tightening in her stomach was there again, like a clenched fist wrenching her guts. She couldn't imagine Vilkas ever saying anything of the sort. Maybe how bad she was with a sword made him gasp, or how insolent she was when he gave her orders stunned him, but there was no way he'd ever said she took his breath away.

"I mean it, Farkas. Shut your mouth right now, or I'll shut it for you."

"All right, but I just thought you should know," he shrugged, the shoulders of his armor creaking. "Since we're going to our death and all. You can die knowing your whole campaign to get his attention didn't fail." They stepped into the cairn, all joking quickly shoved to the side at the sight of a draugr corpse lying crumpled in the middle of the floor. Moods quickly shifted, both of them shifted their frame of mind to the task at hand. "I don't think we're the only ones here," he noted.

"It would seem that way."

"Be careful," he muttered. "If you ever want to profess your undying love to my brother, we need to get through this alive."

"I do not love your brother," she said, scanning the interior for clues and danger.

"You just keep telling yourself that, sister."

He followed close behind her as they headed in through the entry chamber and down a quick set of stairs that led into a second chamber. She couldn't let herself think about the ridiculous conversation she'd just had with Farkas. They immediately met with two hungry draugr in the winding catacombs, which they quickly dispatched. As they came into a cavern, she scanned the room and turned back over her shoulder.

"It looks like the gate is blocking the way forward. Is there a lever somewhere?"

"Have a look around," he said. "I'll check over here."

She found a small off room with a lever inside, and called out, "I think I found it," drawing the lever as she spoke.

The gate dropped down on her, trapping her inside the off room and bringing Farkas running toward her. "What the hell did you do that for?" There was a hint of playful mischief in his eyes. "I should leave you in there until you confess."

"Quit messing around, Farkas, and get me out of here."

"All right, all right." He started away from the chamber, heading left in search of the lever that would open the gate. "I think there's a lever over he…"

He never got to finish that sentence, as a band of strange foes came into the outer chamber, the one leading them tapping the blade of his sword on the palm of his hand.

"Well, well, well. What have we here boys? A stray dog away from his pack?"

The woman directly over the leader's right shoulder lifted her nose into the air and sniffed. "I thought I smelled wet dog. Turns out it was just you and your little dog playmate."

"You picked the wrong dog to mess with, scum." Farkas growled, dropping his sword. As it clattered to the floor, Luthien clenched the bars holding her back, suddenly realizing just how much danger her shield-brother was in. If anything happened to him, she'd never forgive herself, and neither would anybody else.

Farkas arched his back, the armor falling away as he tore through the clothing underneath, his body shifting, changing. Wiry, dark hair grew over every inch of his naked flesh, his back broadening, feet and hands lengthening into strange claws as he lifted his head and howled. The sound was terrifying, echoing through the stone cairn like a nightmare, and then he broke into a frenzied attack, slashing claws and hammering fists. Bodies flew this way and that, one of them landing just outside the cage she'd been locked in, his dying expression one of surprised horror, a wet spot staining the front of his breeches.

It was only a matter of seconds before he'd destroyed them, swiping out with the sharp claws at the ends of his massive paws until their tattered corpses littered the floor, blood spatters dripping down the wall. He disappeared left, the door that held her in groaning open and she stepped back, a part of her wanting to huddle in the corner and hide, for fear the beast would come back for her. Only it was Farkas who returned, pulling into his armor as he approached as if nothing had happened at all.

"What… the… hell was that?"

"What?"

"Farkas, you just… Are you… You're a werewolf."

"Yeah," he shrugged, as if she'd just obviously stated that he had brown hair. "So."

"Yeah? So? Mehrune's Dagon, Farkas!" she hissed. "Don't you think that's the kind of thing you might want to tell a person you're heading into battle with?"

"We would have told you, eventually. If you passed this final test."

"We? What do you mean? Are all the Companions werewolves?"

"No," he unsheathed his sword again, ready to move on. "It's a blessing bestowed on a select few known as the inner-circle."

Everything was starting to make sense now. Aela that day in the woods. The argument she'd overheard.

"Skjor?" she asked.

"And Kodlak. Aela."

"Vilkas?"

"Ahuh."

"Talos!" she muttered under her breath. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," he said, turning toward the open door to their left.

"Are you going to make me a werewolf?" Suddenly, it dawned on her what Vilkas and Aela had been arguing about that night she'd overheard them. He didn't want her in their circle. Was that why he'd been sending her off on so many jobs? To keep her from the inner-circle?

"That's up to you," he said. "And only if we get through this alive and get the shard back to Skjor."

"What if I don't want to be a werewolf?"

"Then you don't want to be a werewolf. Come on, Luthien. We have work to do. I wasn't expecting to find the Silver Hand here, and I have a feeling there are more of them lurking in the halls."

"Who are the Silver Hand?"

"Werewolf hunters," he said.

Farkas was right. There were more Silver Hand waiting for them as they delved deeper into the cairn. She didn't hesitate in lifting her sword against them all, even though her mind was muddled with a whole new set of strange thoughts. Werewolves? Why hadn't they told her? She guessed it wasn't exactly the kind of thing one went around advertising, but still… She'd known them for weeks, traveled with Farkas, worked for them, and if they were planning to make her a wolf too, what then?

It was more than her mind could handle, but at least it had distracted her from that ridiculous business with Farkas about his brother. As much as it burned through her mind, she didn't let it keep her from the task at hand. They battled through both Silver Hand and draugr, until they finally came to the cairn. They had to search the old burial urns for the key to the cairn, and once inside they found themselves surrounded by draugr.

One of them shouted at them in that strange tongue she'd learned after absorbing the dragon's soul, sending both of them staggering into one another like a couple of loose stones in an avalanche. Getting back up to face the thing was tougher than either of them ever dreamed, as it kept unleashing its Thu'um on them, making it nearly impossible to get close.

Farkas managed to slip in behind the draugr, bringing his sword down into the back of its head and knocking it lifeless to the ground. Luthien gathered her wits and her strength and stood up, shaking the cobwebs from her head. But no matter how hard she shook, she couldn't stop the rising sound of chanting, which sounded eerily like the voices she'd heard calling to her in Bleakfalls Barrow.

She followed it to the wall behind the crypt, stumbling back a little as her eyes focused on the eerily glowing words carved into the wall. The chanting was coming from the word itself, drawing her closer, and then she felt it rush through her, become a part of her until her head swam with a power so great it made her feel nauseous and dizzy. She swayed, her loose knees buckling beneath her, and as she fell all she could think about was failure.

She'd failed Farkas and Skjor, the Companions, but most of all, Vilkas. His face was the last solid thought her mind wrapped around before everything went dark.


	11. Chapter 11

The face above her was a blur, and even though she blinked several times to clear her vision, it remained hard for her to focus. "Vilkas," she murmured, reaching up to touch his cheek. Why was he there with her? Where was she? "Vilkas?"

"Well, that's the first time I ever had a girl in my arms and she mistook me for my twin." a gruff voice began. "I guess that says it all. If I ever hear you try to say you're not in love with my brother again, I'll bash _you_ in the face with _my_ shield to knock some sense into you." He cleared his throat and brought a bottle to her lips, making her sip slowly until she could feel her strength coming back to her.

"What happened?" she muttered, leaning up on her elbows and ignoring what he'd just said.

"Best I can figure is, you hit your head when the draugr shouted at us that last time and the blow made you woozy."

"Draugr," she nodded. "Right." It all came trickling back to her, like a slow water leak through cracked stone. "The fragment."

"Here," he held it over to her. "As soon as you get your strength back, we'll take that back to Skjor. There's gonna be a huge celebration in your honor, shield-sister."

It took a few minutes before she felt strong enough to stand, and as she made her way to her feet, Farkas drew her arm across his shoulder, holding her up as they climbed through the back exit and into the oncoming dawn. She didn't know how long they'd been underground. Hours, days, but the fresh air felt good on her face, cooling her burning skin until she felt almost like herself again.

"I'm fine," she shrugged out of his hold. "I think I can walk on my own now."

"All right," he nodded. "If you feel a little dizzy, don't be afraid to lean on me."

"I won't."

She didn't want to think about what had happened in the cairn, the word wall and that strange feeling that swept through her right before she lost consciousness, but even more than that, she didn't want to think about the fact that her closest friend, the guy who'd had her back in there, had been a werewolf all along and she'd had no idea.

"What's it like?" she asked.

"What's what like?" he glanced down at her as they walked.

"Being a werewolf?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "It's hard for me to put into words. It just is what it is."

"Do you like it?"

"It's not so bad," he said, then slumped his shoulders. "But Vilkas says it's like a curse, and I guess in some ways it is, but it's gotten me out of tight spots more times than I care to admit. It's just really hard to control sometimes. Like this fire inside you that needs to be fed by the hunt. Aela and Skjor live for that, and I thought I did too, but lately… I don't know. It just doesn't feel right anymore. Kodlak says it isn't the way things are supposed to be and Vilkas says there isn't any honor in it. Maybe he's right."

"Maybe."

They didn't say much more as they finished the journey home to Jorrvaskr, but they both had a lot on their minds. It was late into the morning when they arrived at Jorrvaskr, and though she wanted nothing more than the fall into bed and catch up on a few hours sleep, she immediately sought out Skjor as Farkas admitted he was going to take a short nap before the celebrations began.

Skjor was just waking up when she knocked on his door, and he called out, inviting her in. She opened the door slowly, peeking her head around.

"You're back," he nodded, sitting up in the bed before climbing out and stepping toward her. "Come in, how did it go?"

She held up the shard, stepping back as he marveled at the feel of it in his hand after taking it.

"You did well, girl! Better than any of us expected." She was surprised when he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her off the ground in a huge, bear-like hug that nearly squeezed the life out of her as he spun her around. "Tonight, we celebrate and welcome you to our ranks, shield-sister!"

Aela appeared in the doorway, clearing her throat, which prompted Skjor to lower Luthien back to the floor. "Is that…" she stepped toward them, snatching the fragment from Skjor's hand. "She did it! You really did it!" Her arms came around them both, drawing them in close. "I knew you would."

She didn't think about them being werewolves then, though the thought never lingered far from her mind now that she'd learned the truth. Glancing up from their embrace, she saw Vilkas waiting at the edge of the hallway, his brow furrowed and his mouth drawn tight.

"I won't lie," she began, regaining her footing. "It wasn't easy, and I couldn't have done it without Farkas."

"That's what family is all about, girl." Skjor grinned, clapping her hard on the shoulder. "And you're part of the family now. Go, get some rest. You're going to need all your strength for the long night of drinking that lies ahead of us."

Vilkas was still standing in the hallway when she came out, and she thought she saw his face soften a little when she met his eyes. "I hear you did well, and you brought my brother back in one piece."

"We brought each other back in one piece," she said. "That's what shield-siblings do. They look out for each other."

"You learn quickly," he grinned. "You look tired. You should get some sleep before the celebration starts."

"I think I will."

"The bunkhouse is liable to be busy, and it'll make it hard for you to rest. I'd like to offer you my private room for a few hours, if you'll take it. Consider it… a reward, for a job well done."

"A little peace and quiet would be a nice change."

"This way then." He nodded left, and she followed him across the intersection in the hall to a small, private room on the right. She didn't know why, but she'd expected to find the place packed with weapons and armor, not books. There was a small desk in the corner with quills and inkwells, spare bits of parchment and a few bound scrolls. He reached over to close the open book on the desk and then gestured toward the bed. "It's yours as long as you need it."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

As he left her alone there, she sat down on the edge of his bed and looked around the room again. He was tidy, everything in its place. Even the books on the shelves were neatly lined in a perfect row. Peeling off her boots, she set them on the floor and lifted her legs into the bed as she reclined on his pillow and drew the blankets up around her neck. She brought it against her face and breathed in, recognizing his familiar scent. She'd never noticed it so strongly before, but now that it was all around her, she wondered why she hadn't. Vilkas smelled of fire smoke and lavender, with an underlying hint of musk and honeyed mead that stirred strange feelings in her belly, the kind of feelings she refused to believe she had.

Farkas was _not_ right. She didn't like Vilkas, and she certainly wasn't in love with him, even if all she seemed to think about was finding ways to make him smile, to make his intense eyes soften and glimmer with approval… and want. She closed her eyes, but even then all she could see was his face. The small scar just below his bottom lip, the way the edges of his hair curled slightly, especially when he was damp with sweat in the practice yard.

Why? When he'd never been anything but cruel to her until now? Why would she want to think about him at all?

But the longer she laid there, her body relaxing within the comfort of his presence all around her, mind drifting near the edges of dream, she remembered the heat of his body behind hers in the practice yard, his strong arms melding into hers, knees pressed into the backs of her legs as they moved together and brought down her sword again and again. She could almost feel the whisper of stubble rush against her cheek, his warm breath fluttering through the loose strands of her red hair as he whispered, "Then perhaps you shouldn't whisper them in my brother's ear… Whisper your secrets to me instead."

As those thoughts melded into dreams, she felt strong, unafraid as she turned her face into his and said, "I'll tell you my secrets, if you tell me yours."

He somehow managed to turn her in his arms, their roles reversed for the moment as he sought her face for the approval she'd worked so hard to get from him. He wanted something from her, something she'd never given to anyone before, but what? What could he possibly want?

His hard mouth came down on hers, fingers pressing into her flesh so hard the promise of bruises lingered in his touch. She gasped against his kiss, her open mouth inviting him inside, and he didn't hesitate to answer that call. The damp velvet of his tongue passed between her lips, caressing, circling dancing with her own in ways that made her entire body shudder and tremble.

But the moment shifted, so quick she couldn't catch it and draw it back the way she wanted it to be. She was standing in the middle of an open field alone, wisping flakes of snow drifting through the streams of light from the full moon high above her, the other moon a slivered, purple crescent. Behind her, she heard a guttural growl, and then a long, lonely howl that wrenched the heart from her chest. When she turned, a pack of wolves had gathered around her, their mouths open, eyes burning in the moonlight, and they had come to take her down.


	12. Chapter 12

Luthien tried not to think about that dream when she woke, but it lingered in the back of her mind as she dressed and made her way up to the mead hall. Farkas was awake too, sitting at the corner of the table chowing down on a heaping bowl of steaming venison stew and buttered bread.

"You're awake," he said through a mouthful of food, a playful smile drawing at the corners of his mouth. "It's about time too. Skjor's been itching to get this party started for hours, but Vilkas said they should leave you to sleep."

"Was I really asleep for that long?"

"It's after six," he nodded.

"I could have slept straight through until morning, I think."

"Me too, but I like parties. We should go and join them out back. There's plenty of mead and more food than we'll ever eat in one sitting. Well, maybe. I'm pretty hungry. I'd probably eat a horse if one showed up in front me right about now."

Everyone was already gathered, even Kodlak, who was rarely found outside his room. He rose when he saw her come out, lifting his arms in praise and greeting. "There she is," he announced, the power of his voice directing all eyes on her. "Come, Luthien. Into the circle of judgment, where we review your deeds and determine whether or not you are worthy of being named among the Companions."

She walked out into the yard to join him, seeing a gleam of pride in the old man's eyes as he lowered a hand on her shoulder. "You have proven yourself honorable, lifted your sword and raised your shield to protect your shield-sibling, Farkas, on more than one occasion. You've brought honor to the Companions, and I am proud to call you sister in arms."

"Hear, hear." Aela held up her mug of ale, Skjor following suit.

"If any among you have found fault with the deeds of this woman, speak now, or never against her again."

The yard was silent, only the metal ringing from the Skyforge above echoing in reply. She glanced around at all their faces, her gaze last falling on Vilkas, who much to her surprise seemed to actually be smiling.

"Welcome, shield sister," Kodlak said. "From this day forth, your deeds will be counted among the Companions. May you bring honor to yourself and to us all." As they all lifted their drinks to her, Kodlak leaned over and said in a softer voice, "I don't feel we have had much time together since you came here, Luthien. Perhaps when you next have a free moment to spare, you can come down and sit with me. There is much I feel we could learn from one another."

At the time she felt Kodlak's words were strange, but before she could say anything other than, "Of course, Harbinger," Farkas drew up to her and handed her an overflowing mug of mead.

"Drink, sister! Drink until you can't drink anymore."

Kodlak patted her shoulder, chuckling into his beard as he began to walk away. "Enjoy this night. Tonight, we all drink to you."

She took the mug from Farkas, precious drops of mead sloshing out over her hands. "I think this cup is a little full."

"Then you should empty it," he grinned.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to get me drunk so you could take me down to Riften."

"Would if I could," he shook his head, the sweet smile never leaving his lips. "Would if I could, but I know your heart doesn't lie with mine, and I'm okay with that.

_Here we go again_, she thought, her eyes at the ready to arch skyward if he started going on about her being interested in Vilkas again.

"No matter what happens, you've been a good friend to me, and that mean something. Good friends are sometimes hard to come by."

"I'll drink to that!" she tossed the cup back, warm mead spilling down her throat, its heat instantly spreading through her body.

"Girl," Skjor called out to her. "I've got a drink for you too!"

"Now that you're one of us, we're gonna heap all the responsibility on you. Just you wait. I hope you find your bed tonight," Farkas said. "And you don't wake up feeling too hungover in the morning."

"Doesn't look like that's on my agenda tonight," she laughed, walking toward Skjor. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Vilkas's gaze, but quickly looked away for fear those bizarre images she'd dreamed would come back to haunt her and he would know.

"To my shield-sister," Skjor passed her another cup. "Drink!"

She tipped the cup back, swallowing in thirsty gulps that immediately sent the mead Farkas had given her swimming to her head. When she brought the cup back down, Skjor leaned in and lowered an arm over her shoulder. "I've got another job for you tonight, if you think you're up to it."

"I'm never one to turn down work, though if you all keep shoving drinks at me, I probably won't be able to walk."

"This job is… different," he grinned, his good eye flaring with something dark and ominous that sent warning flares off in her mind. "Meet me tonight by the underforge if you're interested, but don't tell anyone, especially not Farkas. That boy's famous for spreading word like fire, and we need to keep this just between us, got it?"

She leaned back to look at him, wondering what he had up his sleeve, but there was no sign to read in his expression. "All right," she nodded. "I'll meet you tonight."

"Good," he withdrew his arm from her and grabbed the bottle on the table beside them, filling her cup again. "Deep cups tonight, everyone. To our shield-sister!" he bellowed.

Cheers rang around the yard, everyone but Vilkas lifting their cups to drink in her name as they approached her.

After a while, she started holding a full cup and only sipping when someone came up to drink with her, for fear of the dizziness that promised to come if she kept drinking. She munched on bread and sweet rolls, hoping their starch would absorb some of the alcohol in her belly and keep her semi-sober enough to meet with Skjor when the time was right.

Farkas and Torvar kept trying to challenge her into a drinking contest, but she refused them, laughing every time one of them spilled mead down the front of their clothes. "Come on, you're a Companion now. That means you drink among the best warriors in Tamriel." When the two of them started singing it was like a chorus of croaking frogs and she took that as her cue to exit.

Lingering by the wall alone and warming herself by the coals of the dying fire, that was where Vilkas found her.

She hadn't been avoiding him all night on purpose, or maybe she had. Every once in a while, she'd look up and see him coming toward her, and quickly immerse herself in some not-so-deep conversation with Ria or Farkas, but it seemed she no longer had anywhere to run, and when she looked up he was standing there, shadows burning orange across his face.

"Well done," he said softly. "I knew all along you could do what needed to be done."

"No you didn't," she shook her head. "When I first came here, you told Kodlak to send me back to where I came from."

"I did," he nodded, a sheepish grin twitching at the corners of his mouth, "didn't I?"

"Mm-hmm. I believe your exact words were: There is no room for outsiders among. Go back to where you came from and leave us alone, Whelp."

"I did not call you a whelp… that time." His laugh was a little uneasy, nervous as if he felt just as strange and uncomfortable in her presence as she'd felt in his from the start.

"Only every day after that."

"I guess I was pretty hard on you," he admitted.

"You were."

"I won't apologize, if that's what you're expecting."

There it was again, the tightness inside her that made it hard for her to breathe, the feeling she'd come to associate with confrontation and Vilkas. It was almost like dread, as if she knew that at any given moment he would open his mouth and send her over the edge and flailing into the great void with a single word.

"I saw potential in you, but you were green and soft. You needed to learn that there was more to fighting than the drive of a vengeful heart and the promise of glory that comes with death on a battlefield."

"A vengeful heart is not so easily comforted," she said. "And it doesn't soon forget that which made it ache."

"Perhaps not," he agreed, "but there is hope that heart can learn patience, so that it strikes out when the time is right. Trust me, Luthien, I know all about the fires of revenge, how they drive us to act, even when we know we shouldn't."

It was the first time he'd ever called her by name, and the way it rolled off his tongue made her shiver inside like she'd never done before upon hearing the sound of her own name on someone else's lips. She was drunk, she told herself when she thought for a moment that it felt like her name had been made just so he could speak it the way he did.

"One day you will avenge the death of your father," he said. "And perhaps you will have a shield-brother at your side when you do."

She blinked, looking down at the full cup in her hands and saw the liquid trembling, or maybe it was her that trembled. Looking up at him again, she watched the torchlight flicker in his eyes. "Did you ever placate the vengeance in your heart, Vilkas?"

"No," he said, his tone low and layered with such remorse it actually made her heart ache for him just then. "I don't think those wounds will ever heal."

She hadn't wanted to admit it to herself, but she feared he was right about her own wounds too. There was no way in the world she could ever kill every Imperial in Tamriel, and even if she did, it would never bring her father back.

As much as she hated the sound of Farkas's voice drawing nearer, there was a part of her that felt grateful for his approach. It broke the strange tension that held them in its grasp, and distracted them from going deeper into things that were probably best left unexplored.

"There you are. Both of you. Wow." Farkas swayed like a wave when he finally planted himself between them and draped an arm across both of them. "Funny I should find you two together, even if it _is_ where you should have been all along. All that bickering was starting to get old."

"You're not making any sense, Farkas," Vilkas scolded. "I think you have had more than your share of mead for one night."

"I'm making perfect sense. You like her, she likes you, it couldn't be any clearer, and it's about time you just admit it to each other."

"All right. That will be enough of that." Vilkas gripped his brother's arm. "I think it's time for you to go to bed, little brother, before you start saying things we'll all regret in the morning."

"I regret nothing," Farkas declared. "Hey, don't you ever think it's kind of funny that I'm the little brother, even though I'm so much bigger than you?"

"Yes, Farkas. I have always thought it was hilarious."

"Me too," he snorted a laugh, stumbling over his own feet as Vilkas began to draw him forward.

"Say goodnight, Farkas."

But instead of saying goodnight, Farkas whirled back around, the last bit of mead spilling from his cup and splashing on the stone in front of her. "He really does like you, Luthien. He'd be stupid not to and my brother has the brain of Ysgramor. I have his strength."

Vilkas lifted his gaze, eyes caught for a moment on the Amulet of Mara resting over her chest before lifting to meet hers. She thought she saw something there, or maybe Farkas had filled her head with silly thoughts and she just wanted to see something that wasn't there at all. He nodded his head curtly, and then drew Farkas toward Jorrvaskr, mumbling softly that it was time to go to bed.


	13. Chapter 13

She found Skjor by the underforge, leaning against the stone like a thief on the lookout for guards. As she approached, he snuck up to stand in front of her, arms crossed against the chill in the air.

"I wasn't sure you'd come. I saw you talking to Vilkas, and figured he probably tried to talk you out of it."

"What is this place?"

"The underforge," he explained. "It is a great source of power that lingers beneath the Skyforge, and it has been here so long no one remembers its origin."

"So, why all the secrecy?"

"Come inside and I'll tell you."

She hesitated, not sure what awaited beyond that strange, stone door, even less sure she wanted to actually find out.

He pressed open the stone wall that hid the underforge from the world outside and stepped aside to allow her entry first. She nearly stumbled over her own feet when she looked up and saw a tall werewolf hovering near the brazier, the orange flame shining off her soft, brown coat, flickering in her golden eyes.

"We have to keep this a secret because if Kodlak found out, he wouldn't be happy about it. He's too busy trying to throw this all away, but this, sister, is what it means to be a true Companion."

"Becoming a werewolf?" she asked, chills chasing across the hairs on the back of her neck before rippling down her spine.

"This is our greatest gift. It gives us power and strength unlike any other. Our fathers were wolves, and their fathers before them. If you wish to be a true Companion, a true sister to us, you will partake of the blood. Aela has offered to be your sire."

She couldn't believe the beast before her was Aela, the willowy woman she'd come to admire so much since they'd first met. She'd seen Farkas in his wolf form, and even that was still hard for her to believe, but this… it was almost too much to swallow.

"Are you with us, sister?" Skjor asked.

She remembered the argument, remembered what Farkas said, that Vilkas and Kodlak thought it was a curse, not a blessing, but if they were all cursed, and she was to be among them, she should share in their curse as well. Shouldn't she? It was a burden they could share together until the end of their days.

Her voice caught in the back of her throat, but she swallowed hard against her fear and nodded. "I am with you."

Skjor whooped and howled, and Aela lifted her muzzle to the ceiling, unleashing a long keen that sent shivers through Luthien's entire body. She stepped up to the basin and looked down into the red pool that awaited her. She could smell its coppery scent, almost taste it on her tongue, but she was still afraid.

She didn't remember much after the frenzy hit. The three of them running through the woods like a dream, tracking, hunting, devouring the carcass of an Elk they took down together. As she stood on her hind legs and lifted her face against the glow of moonlight clawing through the clouds, she howled, the great power surging through her as that sound echoed in the night and sent every animal for miles running to the hills. Her sister and brother followed suit, the three of them baying at the moon together, before dropping onto their paws and springing fast across the open plains until the sun came up at dawn.

She woke feeling stiff and groggy, her mind taking a few minutes to clear before she sat up and realized she was wearing naught but the skin she was born in, and a grinning Aela stood above her holding out her clothes. Her armor lay in a heap at Aela's feet.

"Here, sister. Get dressed."

"Where are we?" she asked, reaching for her clothes and quickly slipping into them.

"Just south of Gallows Rock," Aela said. "I almost envy you. The first transformation is always the one you remember. It wasn't an easy one, but it was successful. Do you remember much from last night?"

"I remember the moon," was all she said.

Aela nodded, passing her sword over to her. "That's what I always remember when I first wake up too. It feels good to run and hunt, but today we hunt for more than just beasts. Skjor's already gone ahead. We'll meet up with him there."

"Where?"

"There's a Silver Hand camp up at Gallow's Rock. Their leader is notorious for torturing our kind, cutting off our skins and making them into rugs. They call him Krev the Skinner. Today, we take them out and show this Krev the Skinner not to mess with the Companions."

The two of them sprinted across the fields until they came up on a secret entrance to the encampment and snuck inside. Luthien drew her blade and Aela strung her bow, ready to fire on sight. They took out the first three Silver Hand before they even knew what hit them, but the fourth went running through the tunnels to warn the others that they were coming. By the time they came up just outside the camp, they were met by a horde of Silver Hand, and had to fight their way through at close combat just to get to the door.

They left no one alive, bursting through the door and stepping back in horror at the sight of a dead werewolf strung up in a side closet just inside the door.

"And they call us animals," Aela spat on the floor.

Luthien took out the next two, while Aela snuck up and shot the first woman they at the top of the stairs in the back. The second came at her with a vengeance, promising to tear the beast from her soul. Lining the walls were cages containing three werewolves, and while Aela battled the Silver Hand, Luthien picked the locks and set them free, one by one, watching as they charged for to ravage their captors.

"Where the hell is Skjor? He must be inside already," Aela said, a hint of worry in her tone.

"I hope he's all right."

"He's fine, I'm sure, but he should have waited for us. It isn't like him to go into battle without a shield-sibling beside him."

They followed the sound of voices until it led to a closed door. Aela leaned in and listened, turning over to nod at Luthien to let her know they'd found what they were looking for. She leaned back along the wall, and Luthien kicked in the door, charging into the room and stopping short to catch the strangled breath that wrenched her throat.

She'd found Skjor, or at least what was left of him, and felt the fire of vengeance set her heart aflame. Skjor, who had shared his wisdom with her. Skjor, who had once been a captain of the Blades, who had led an army of 40,000 men into battle, who had given up his left eye for a cause he wholeheartedly believed in, and they had torn him apart.

"You bastards!" She heard Aela scream from behind her, an arrow unleashing into the man flanking Krev the Skinner on the right. She charged in and began hacking away at the first Silver Hand to come at her.

Their leader looked up from his throne, his sickening grin one of the most hideous Luthien had ever seen. He drew out his axe and rushed at her, and for a moment she saw her whole life flash before her eyes. How could she stand against such a foe, a foe who had taken down the mighty Skjor?

Her heart felt like it might explode inside her chest, fear and grief igniting her passion for revenge. Skjor had been her brother, a mentor, and though he may not have liked her very much at first, in the end he'd come to respect, even love her like a sister. She unleashed a mighty battle-cry that startled Krev the Skinner long enough to catch him off guard for her to charge in. She didn't know how she got through the next few minutes, coming out alive with a tangle of Silver Hand bodies on the floor around her and so much blood on her armor, the smell of it made her feel sick. When she finally found her wits again and shook off the pain that wracked her body, it was the sound of Aela's sobs that drew her back into the moment.

"He should have never come here without us," Aela cried. "He knew better. He knew…"

"Aela, I'm sorry." She reached out to lay a hand of comfort on her shield-sister's shoulder, but Aela would have no comfort.

She spun around hard and fast, the blade in her hand still dripping with blood. "We will avenge him, sister," she snarled. "We will not rest until every last Silver Hand is dead."


	14. Chapter 14

The next few weeks were a blur. She hadn't been back to Jorrvaskr since she'd taken the beastblood from Aela. They spent their nights sprinting across the dark land like wolves, their days slaughtering every Silver Hand they came across. She'd spent so much time in her beast form, Luthien nearly forgot where she ended and the beast began. So many dead, so much mayhem, that eventually she and Aela lost track of each other's scent, and Luthien didn't know what else to do but go home.

She hiked for miles before stopping and buying the horse from a peddler on the road, offering him twice what the beast was worth to get him to part with it. She was carrying around more money than she'd ever had in her life, had been trading in all the loot she scavenged from jobs for coin and saving it and it seemed the Silver Hand carried around far more gold than she could have ever imagined. She wasn't sure anymore what she was saving it all for, but she had plenty of it.

She was grateful for the horse though, and for the rest it allowed her to try and catch, as it galloped along the road, carrying her home.

Home.

She hadn't thought she'd ever have another place to call home after her father died, but in the last few months, Jorrvaskr had become just as much a home to her as the place she'd grown up. She felt comfortable there, and safe, though now that she and Aela had followed their vengeance and grief into depths she wasn't sure either of them could ever climb out of again, she feared that not even Jorrvaskr could bring her comfort again. It might not even welcome her when she walked up the stairs.

She'd barely thought about Vilkas at all in those weeks, she hadn't thought much about anything but revenge. But as she traveled, she found her thoughts returning to him more and more often, her memory drawing up the image of his face, the intense burn of his deep blue eyes, the hard crush of his mouth on hers in that dream…

He'd never wanted her to join the inner-circle, but she had, and now that she'd allowed vengeance to guide her path to a bloody ruin, she was sure he wouldn't even want to look at her, much less talk to her when she came up the steps to Jorrvaskr.

Weeks ago, the thought of him made her burn inside with anger, but now she missed him and she didn't even know why. She felt certain he hadn't thought of her at all, and that only made the strange desire inside her harder to deal with. She missed Farkas too, and longed for the comfort of his friendship humor to lift her from the dark place that had become her haven. She couldn't imagine ever laughing again, but if anyone could at least make her smile, it would be him.

She would never be the same again. So much death; so much blood on her hands, and none of it would ever bring Skjor back. She knew that now, but at the time it had fueled them both, her and Aela, tearing, and clawing, hacking and slashing at everything that challenged them until they bathed in the blood of their enemies. In the aftermath she didn't feel any better, and Skjor was still dead.

Vilkas had been right. Vengeance didn't cool a burning heart. It only made those fires burn hotter, until they consumed the soul.

It was early morning when she drew up to the stables outside Whiterun and sold her horse to the stable master. By the time she walked up through the gates, the town itself was only just waking up, the few bodies meandering through the streets like draugr.

She walked slowly herself, hesitating when she reached the top of the stops and saw Jorrvaskr. She didn't know if Aela had made it home, and if she had, she wasn't sure she could handle another rush of vengeance-fueled slaughter so soon. And going to Jorrvaskr meant facing Farkas, Vilkas, Kodlak… Would they all blame her for Skjor's death, say she and Aela had brought dishonor to the Companions?

"Good morning," a familiar voice called from just behind her, and when she turned over her shoulder, she saw Proventus Avenicci coming up the stairs. Jarl Balgruuf had told her to see Proventus when she was ready to buy property in Whiterun, though she never thought she'd be ready, but maybe having her own house to hide in for a while would be better than facing the music in Jorrvaskr. She didn't think she could stand Vilkas's cruel glare, no matter how much she wanted the comfort of her new family.

"Proventus," she smiled. "The Jarl said I should see you about buying property here in Whiterun."

"Yes, of course. We've just had a house come onto the market for sale. Would you like me to take you down to have a look?"

"No," she shook her head. "But I'll take it."

"Really?" he looked skeptical as she lifted her heavy coin purse up. "And I would like it furnished as well. How do I go about doing that?"

"I'll take care of everything," he said. "Assuming you have the coin to pay for it."

"Good, how much?"

"The cost of the house and all the furnishings will run just around 6800 septims, but if you don't have that much now, we can furnish it slowly."

When last she'd counted her gold, she had 7200. That would leave her just 400 to live on until she took on a few more jobs and hocked the last of the loot she was carrying around. Pulling open the drawstring, she took out the 400 and handed the rest of the bag over to him.

"6800 septims," she nodded. "I'd like to move in as soon as possible."

"I'll get on that straight away. If you want to follow me up to the keep, I can get you the key right now."

Proventus moved quickly, and by mid-afternoon, he'd gotten enough of the house set up for her to move in and promised to get it completely furnished before the end of the week. Lydia had come down from Dragonsreach to take her place in Luthien's household, where she belonged, but she asked to be left alone, closing the doors and crawling into her new bed with her guilt and sorrow.

The beastblood made it difficult for her to sleep, but she lay there for hours anyway, listening to Whiterun, the sound of the rain on the eaves as the world went on around her. Sometime just after dark, she'd fallen into a troubled sleep, plagued by dreams of the Silver Hand, only to be awakened by a knock on her door and the sound of Lydia's soft voice.

"My thane?" she called out. "I know you asked not to be bothered, but someone's here to see you."

"I don't want to see anyone, Lydia. I thought I made that clear."

There was muttering, Lydia telling whoever it was that she'd already told them her thane wasn't seeing anyone, but then she heard the doors rush open. "But she said…"

"I don't care what she said. No visitors doesn't include me," Farkas barked. "Now leave us."

He closed the doors in Lydia's face and stalked toward the bed with exactly the look she'd been expecting him to wear. He was angry, his eyes twin flames of rage, but when he opened his mouth, his voice was soft.

"We were worried sick about you," he scolded. "For weeks, you were just gone, and then the rumors started trickling in. You and Aela, Skjor… Aela came home three days ago, but she hasn't said a word beyond that Skjor was dead. Where have you been?"

"Lost," she muttered.

"Lost? What do you mean, lost? You couldn't find your way back to Whiterun? You took a wrong turn in the Wind District? You've been here since this morning. You should have come home to your family. We were all worried."

"I am home," she held up her hand. "This is my home now."

"Jorrvaskr is your home," he said, his upper lip stiff, teeth clenched.

"Not anymore."00

"Wait a minute, you bought this place?"

She nodded, dangling her legs over the edge of the bed. "Jarl Balgruuf offered me a title and property a while ago, but I didn't have the coin until now."

The scowl softened from his face and he relaxed his jaw a bit. "Well, that's nice. I'm happy for you, but you still should have come home. Everyone's been worried. Aela said she didn't know where you were, that maybe you were dead too, and we all thought the worst. Vilkas went out looking for you two days ago. He hasn't come back yet, but I should ride out and see if I can find him."

"He did?"

"He'll want to know you're safe."

"Will he?" She didn't believe him.

"Yes," he nodded. "He cares about you. We all care about you, Luthien. No one blames you, but I won't lie. Kodlak is pretty upset about the killing spree you two went on. He says there will be consequences. Maybe not now, but sooner or later they will come and we will have to be ready for them."

"There are already consequences," she muttered, walking to the table in the corner of the room and pouring herself a glass of wine. "Something inside me is broken, Farkas, and I don't know how to fix it." Her voice cracked with emotion. "Seeing Skjor like that… the things they did to him and all the others like us, Gods… Seeing how much those bastards hate us, how much they love to torture our kind… It makes me sick inside, and I don't know if I can ever stop killing them, even though I know it makes me feel awful."

"Hey," he put a hand on her shoulder. "I understand."

"No, you don't." She shrugged away his touch. "I don't think anyone can. Aela maybe, but she's been like this for years. I was a beast for one night before this all started, and then for weeks after, we ran and we rampaged and we tore those bastards limb from limb until there were no more of them to tear. But they kept coming, there were always more…"

"You were right to avenge Skjor. If I had known… I would have…" Farkas shook his head, stepping in behind her again. "Look, you can't do this to yourself, Luthien. You should be with your family now. We can all grieve Skjor together and comfort each other. Come home."

"Farkas." She lowered the empty cup to the table and turned around to face him. "I just can't right now. Please, I need time. I need to be alone for a while. Maybe a lot longer than a while. I don't know."

He was silent for a moment, so quiet that she could hear the fire pit crackling downstairs, hear the boards creaking under Lydia's feet every time she moved. "All right," he nodded. "I'll leave you alone, but only for a while."

"Thank you."

He headed for the door, turning back. "I'm headed out to look for Vilkas, but if you need me, you know where to find me when you're ready."

She nodded, and listened to his heavy footsteps as he went down the stairs. Lydia came to the door then, lingering in the slightly open crack, waiting to be acknowledged.

"I know you're out there," Luthien sighed.

"I'm just worried about you, my thane. I've never seen you like this."

"Well, you can worry about me on the road. Pack your things. We're going on a little trip."

"Where are we going?" she asked, her face lighting up at the prospect of adventure.

"High Hrothgar," she said. "I'm going to talk to the Greybeards."


	15. Chapter 15

She'd put it off too long, and she knew it as soon as they were on the road. The trip to Ivarstead took days, the two of them traveling east across the mountain in search of the path to the 7,000 steps. They stopped for fresh supplies before hiking up the stairs, neither of them saying much, which allowed Luthien to get lost in her grief and her thoughts. Lydia was often a quiet companion, content with listening to Luthien talk if she needed to vent, but she hadn't felt much like unloading her burdens on anyone and Lydia didn't push her.

She'd thought of Vilkas as they traveled, more often than she would have liked, a part of her feeling strange and glad that he'd set out to look for her after Aela came home without her, another part of her letting her guilt get the best of her. Why had Vilkas, of all people, gone searching for her? Farkas, she would have expected, Lydia even, but Vilkas? Why would he care if she'd gone missing?

Still, she shouldn't have left without at least telling Farkas she was going, and she knew that. It was just too hard to imagine facing the others feeling the way she did. Guilt, self-loathing, shame… She needed to sever herself from all that had happened, at least for a little while. Even if it did mean severing herself from the Companions until she got back.

To distract herself from her thoughts, she tried to count the steps as they took them, but she lost count and interest somewhere around nine-hundred. Muscles in her body ached that she hadn't even known she had, and a part of her kept longing to transform into her beast form to sprint up the steps at high speed. But she was denying that part of herself, as hard as it was. She didn't even know why Vilkas hadn't wanted her to take the blessing, but thought she was starting to understand why he felt like it was a curse.

When they finally arrived at High Hrothgar, she stepped inside and felt a great peace wash over her. It was unlike anything she'd ever felt, and all the darkness and anger she'd been carrying around with her over the last few months seemed to melt away.

She was greeted by Master Arngeir, who called her Dovahkiin and told her they'd been waiting for her to answer their call for quite some time. While Lydia lingered in the shadows, she asked for their guidance and begged them to help her understand what it meant to be Dragonborn. Why did she hear those strange chants when she came upon the word walls? Why did they make her feel dizzy and strange and what did all those words mean? Why were the dragons returning, and what was she expected to do about it?

Master Arngeir actually laughed, "So many questions, child. So many questions, and I don't know how many of them I can actually answer for you. Come, show us your power and we will share with you what we can."

Over the next few days, they helped her understand as best they could, and taught her how to harness the power of her shout so the word walls wouldn't make her feel so weak when she came upon them. They gave her a new shout that they hoped would help her in an important quest they needed her to carry out for them. She was to head to Ustengrav and reclaim the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, and then maybe they could tell her more about why the dragons were returning and what it all meant.

"That is all I can teach you for now, Dovahkiin." Arngeir bowed his head to her in the yard behind the monastery. "Return with the horn, and perhaps then we will have more information to help us understand why the dragons have returned, but at this time, there is just no more that we can do."

"I will bring you the Horn, Master Arngeir."

"In the meantime, you and your servant are welcome to take rest here in the monastery as long as you need, Dovahkiin. I see great weariness in you, and a troubled heart. Perhaps the peace and solitude will bring you comfort."

"Thank you."

She and Lydia stayed in High Hrothgar for nearly a week. By day, she studied the Way of the Voice and practiced using her Thu'um with Master Borri and Master Wulfgar. At night, she meditated in the private hallway, trying to quiet the spirit of her restless beast and come to terms with her grief and shame.

A part of her dreaded leaving the peace she felt within the monastery. There, and only there, she'd been able to silence the snarling wolf that wrenched at her soul as if trying to overtake it forever. She carried some of that peace with her, as she and Lydia made their way back down the 7,000 steps and back into Ivarstead. She was calmer inside, though she could still feel the beast, but it didn't seem to have as much power over her as it had when she'd been driven by hate and vengeance.

She knew she needed to go home, even if she wasn't offered a warm reception. She needed to seek out Kodlak and ask for guidance, apologize to Farkas for leaving him to worry, offer Aela her comfort, but more importantly, she needed to face her feelings for Vilkas.

She'd had plenty of time to meditate on all of those things in High Hrothgar, and while she still didn't fully understand what it was she felt for Vilkas, she knew it was stronger than anything she'd ever felt for anyone. The words Maramal had spoken to her in Riften continued to return to her during her meditations. Love brought comfort, strength and warmth in a cold, hard world that knew far too little of such things, and Vilkas had offered them all to her the day she'd returned from Dustman's Cairn with the shard of Wuuthrad. She just hadn't realized it at the time. She'd seen the spark of something in his eyes that night, as if there'd been so much more he'd wanted to say, but just didn't know how.

Maybe she had to say it first, and if it was too late… Well, she hadn't thought that far ahead because it hurt too much to imagine him turning away from her again. She kept telling herself she'd cross that bridge when she came to it, and as the wind swept them down the 7,000 stairs with a vengeance, she felt like it was the gods giving her the extra push she needed to go home again.

They picked up fresh supplies in Ivarstead, and she collected payment from a kind old man named Klimmek, whom she'd carried supplies up the mountain for, and they began the long trek home.

The wind was ferocious, and it rained almost the entire journey, the pelting drops freezing from time to time into tiny daggers of ice that pelted and chinked against their armor. By the time they reached the gates of Whiterun in the late afternoon four days later, she wanted nothing more than to slip out of that armor and into clean, dry clothes again before facing her future in Jorrvaskr.

She relieved Lydia of her duties and told her to head up to the Inn to have a drink. As strong and supportive as her housecarl been through the strange transition Luthien had undergone over the previous several weeks, she seemed just as relieved as Luthien was for a break.

She was just coming down the stairs after having changed her clothes when an urgent rap sounded at the door, followed rather quickly by a heavy hammer. At first she thought it was Lydia, and she forgot her key, so she rushed to the door and pulled it open, ready to tease her, but instead she saw Vilkas standing on the other side, his face drawn into a tight scowl and his eyes ablaze with a fire unlike any she'd ever seen.

"Vilkas," she swallowed. "I was just coming up to Jorrvaskr."

He pushed the door open and came in without an invitation, slamming it behind him before he spun around to face her. "Where in the names of the Nine Divines have you been?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but he interrupted before she could even speak.

"I went out looking for you," he told her. "I was worried that something awful had happened, and I searched for you for days before my brother found me and told me you were all right and that you'd come home. And then, we come back, and you're gone again without even so much as a whisper about where you were going."

"I went to the Throat of the World, to High Hrothgar." She couldn't look into his eyes, for fear of that fire that burned inside him.

"High Hrothgar?" he bellowed, taking a step back to really look at her. "What the hell were you doing in High Hrothgar, and why didn't you at least tell someone you were leaving again? You've got my brother pacing the floors, and Aela is sick with grief. She thinks it's all her fault. Kodlak feared the worst and I…" He stopped himself, that last word lingering in the air between them with nothing but the crack and spit of the logs in the fire to hold it there. "Why would you do that? After everything that's happened? With Skjor and the Silver Hand? How could you just leave without even saying goodbye?"

"I had to go." She could feel his eyes on her, the fire of his anger mingled with such strong emotion it made her ache inside. She'd imagined this confrontation so many times over the last few days, but the fury in him was nothing compared to her fantasies.

"You _had_ to go without saying a word? It doesn't work like that when you have people who care about you." His shout was so loud, she was sure everyone in Whiterun heard their conversation and people at the inn were already discussing it in great detail. "You don't just leave them hanging in the balance, wondering if you're dead. Because anything can happen out there, especially without a shield-brother at your back. Didn't you learn anything from Skjor's death?"

"I'm sorry," she muttered, drawing her lower lip between her teeth, chewing at the dry skin nervously and knowing it wasn't a good time to remind him that she had taken her housecarl with her, and though she may not have been a shield-sister, Lydia could hold her own.

She knew sorry wasn't enough, but she wasn't even sure why. All she had to guide the strange feelings inside her was what Farkas had told her when they'd gone into Dustman's Cairn to retrieve the shard, but how could that possibly be enough to make her feel the way she did? She didn't even understand the way she felt.

And yet she'd thought of him so often, even when she wasn't thinking of him, it was like he was always there in the back of her mind, waiting to be remembered and missed. And she had missed him, more than she'd ever missed anyone she'd been parted from in her life. He stood in front of her in plainclothes, fists clenched at his sides and an uncontrollable rage inside him she wanted so badly to take away. She saw a flash of bronze beneath his shirt, an Amulet of Mara hanging around his neck and wondered if he'd always had it and she just hadn't noticed, or if he'd gone to Riften after he'd seen hers the night she became a Companion.

"You're sorry?" he laughed then, a sarcastic chuckle that sounded more like he was choking than laughing. "And I guess that is supposed to make everything all better, is it?" he asked. "You say you're sorry, and the anguish I've felt since you left just goes away? The nights spent walking the floors, waiting for you to come walking into Jorrvaskr…"

"Anguish?" she took a step toward him, wanting to reach out and touch him, but afraid he'd push her away. She didn't know if she could bear it, him pushing her away anymore, when all she wanted was to be near him, to give into the ache in her heart and let him love her.

"Do you have any idea what it feels like? What it's like not knowing if someone you love is out there suffering alone, or even worse, dead?"

"Yes." Her eyes stung, but she refused to let the tears burning inside them fall. "Every day, I wonder if my mother is still alive. If I'll ever see her again."

For a moment, she thought he softened, but then his fist clenched at his side, full lips tightened again and he shook his head, a long strip of hair falling out of place to lay across his cheek. "Then if you know how it feels, how much it hurts, how the hell could you do that to me?"

"Vilkas… I…"

"You're sorry, yes. I heard you the first time," he shook his head. "But maybe sorry isn't enough, Luthien. Sorry doesn't take away the pain you caused."

She finally let her gaze meet with his, and she saw such torment in his eyes it made her heart feel heavy and cold as iron inside her chest. "Please," she whispered, seizing her courage and reaching out to touch his arm. His skin burned hot beneath her fingers. "Vilkas, I don't expect you to understand, or even forgive me, but I was scared and I was so confused. I just needed some time to figure things out."

"What is there to figure out?" At least he hadn't jerked his arm away from her. That was something. His pulse had quickened, she could feel it thumping just beneath his skin. "Skjor is dead. You and Aela avenged him a hundred times over. It hurts, and it is a terrible thing that happened to him, but we all pick up the pieces and we move on with our lives because tomorrow it could be me." The impact of those words shattered her, the mere thought of actually losing him before he'd ever been hers almost more than she could bear. How had it come to that? "And for days, I feared that it was you."

He surprised her then, lifting his hand to rest against her cheek, fingers crawling back into her hair, curling the strands in his grip. He stepped closer, his face just a breath away from hers until he lowered his forehead against her brow and closed his eyes. She could smell him, his scent stronger than it had ever been before, and she could feel his heart beating in time with hers.

"I can't stand the thought of losing another person I love, Luthien." He breathed her in, the tip of his nose brushing against her cheek, quivering lips following, gently caressing her skin. "Not if I can stand beside you and protect you."

She turned her cheek into his, felt the rough scrape of his stubble brush against her skin. He was trembling, she could feel his heart racing inside him, her own escalating to match its rhythm. His fingers swept across the back of her neck, and he reached his other hand up to tilt her chin so she had no choice but to look into his eyes. Those eyes, so filled with depth she could get lost in them, and for a moment she almost did.

"Let me protect you, Luthien."

The fire inside them wasn't anger, and she realized it had never been anger, even when they'd first met. There was passion there and hunger, an emptiness she wanted so desperately to fill with light and laughter and love. It was what she'd always wanted, even when she'd thought he hated her. She just hadn't realized it.

"Vilkas," she whispered. "I…"

It was better than her dream, his soft mouth moving across hers to silence her, lips slowly parting to draw her in deeper. There was mead in his kiss, the faint taste of honey as his gentle tongue swept in to caress hers. She gasped a little when his strong arm slid down her back and brought her body in closer to his, her open mouth inviting him to explore her kiss in ways she'd never even imagined her wildest, girlish fantasies.

She could feel the taut muscles of his chest ripple beneath her hand when she lifted it to rest over his heart, the heat radiating from his skin like a fire she wanted to burn in until the two of them melted together, their bodies becoming one, hearts beating as one, souls joining, spiraling upward together until they reached the heavens and fell back down to Tamriel like the embers of fallen star.


	16. Chapter 16

**The following chapter contains romantic sexuality that may not be appropriate for readers under the age of sixteen. **

His arms tightened around her, lips pressing so hard she could barely breathe, but she didn't want to if it meant he had to pull away. They somehow managed to make their way upstairs, where Vilkas closed the door and turned to face her. In the flickering light of the lantern on the bedside table, she reached for him, and he let her, his eyes never leaving hers as she worked her fingers along the ties of his shirt, loosening it enough for him to reach down and lift it up over his head.

She marveled at his chest, the soft patch of hair across his breast, every muscle perfect and lean, just as she'd imagined it would be; his stomach a chiseled wall of stone behind his soft flesh that quivered underneath the gentle brush of her fingers.

His shirt fell to the floor with a whisper, and then he brought his trembling hands up to unlace the bodice of her dress. He drew it apart slowly, gaze lowering, lip between his teeth to disguise the eager draw of his breath as he exposed her breasts. He'd lifted his eyes back to hers, watching her face with eager anticipation as he his hand tightened and he began to slowly knead the flesh, pressing in and upward, fingers pinching until she gasped and then he swept in to steal her breath away with his lips.

Walking her slowly backward, their hungry mouths afraid to part, she felt the edge of the bed against the back of her knees. He pushed her almost aggressively, watching as she fell onto the soft, hay-stuffed mattress and coverlet, a dominant grin stealing across his lips.

She leaned upward and reached for him, her fingertips sweeping across his stomach, just above the belt holding his pants in place, but he grabbed her hand, held her fingers in his, squeezing them a little before pushing her away. He dropped slowly to his knees on the floor in front of her and drew her forward, resting his head against her chest. His bare skin felt like a fever against hers, and she wondered if she felt the same to him, if it was the beastblood inside them that made them burn?

Vilkas slid his hands down her shoulders, along the curve of her waist and hips, atop her thighs, as if he was mapping her body and committing her to memory. He raised his head again, lips grazing her chin, the corner of her mouth before she turned in to taste his kiss again.

When he loosened the belt of her skirt, she laid back and let him pull it away until she was naked and exposed in front him without fear.

"Vilkas, I've never…" she started, not sure how to tell him, afraid that if he knew she'd never been with a man before, her lack of experience would turn him away, but his face seemed to brighten as he met her gaze and smiled.

"Neither have I." She didn't know why that surprised her, but for a moment it did. Maybe she'd spent too much time listening to Farkas tell stories while they passed the bottle back and forth after a long day; she'd just assumed.

He knelt between her legs, hair falling into his face as he rested his cheek atop her thigh. For a long time he just stayed that way, silent but for the sound of his breath, the arch of his spine rising and falling. He had scars on his back, puckered flesh around a thick, purple gouge that had long ago healed, and a series of scrapes just above his left shoulder blade, as if some animal had taken a swipe at him. She traced her fingers over those old wounds, watching as gooseflesh rippled across the surface of his pale skin.

He didn't move from that position, except to run his cheek along the smooth skin of her thigh, and after a time she began to feel afraid. Didn't he want her? Did he think they were making a mistake? It had taken her so long to realize that she'd always wanted him, a part of her needing him so desperately it hurt. If he turned away from her then…

"Vilkas," she said.

"Shh," he shook his head. "I want to remember everything about this moment. The way your skin feels, your scent… the heart beating inside you."

Lowering her hand atop his head, she combed her fingers through his hair, smoothed it away from his face and closed her eyes. She let the sound of their hearts beating soothe her soul, and when he moved to kiss the inside of her wrist, his lips traveling along her arm until he came to her shoulder again, she knew that no matter whatever else she faced in the world, this moment between them was the most important moment in her life.

After what felt like an eternity, he stood, his strong hands working at the buckle of his belt. Luthien slid back into the bed and laid down on her side, watching him undress with a smile. She'd never seen a naked man before, but she'd seen artwork and statues and she thought she knew what to expect, but she'd been so wrong. When Vilkas stepped out of his pants, he stood before her in all his glory, like a god come to Tamriel, and he was hers to worship and adore.

He crawled across the bed to join her, immediately reaching for her and drawing her across his chest and into his arms. He kissed her, hungry mouth nibbling at the corner of her lips, fluttering across her cheek, down into the sensitive part of her neck until she lifted her leg over his and arched into him with a soft moan.

"I want you," he whispered. His tongue traveled along that curve, and when his hot breath met with the damp trail he'd left, chills prickled across her entire body. "I've wanted you since the moment I first laid eyes on you."

"I'm yours," she said, rolling onto her back and staring up into his face as he moved with her. Those were the first sure words she had spoken in months.

He rolled with her until she was on her back and he hovered above her, moving in until his body was positioned perfectly over hers. He edged her thighs apart with his, and when she felt the eager rise of his sex brush just below her belly button, excitement flushed her skin, her cheeks burning with anxiety-laced desire as he came down slow to claim her body as his own.

She didn't know what she'd expected, but she hadn't expected it to hurt when he pushed through her tight walls, but it did. She bit her lower lip to keep from crying out, but it was impossible to ignore the pain and soon enough a strangled gasp of pain escaped her.

Startled by the sound, Vilkas paused, lifting his head. His lower lip trembled as worry plagued his expression. The backs of his fingers brushed her cheek and there was such tenderness in his gaze as he asked, "Should I stop, my love?"

She closed her eyes, afraid that if she let him go now, she'd never know him the way she was meant to. "Please, don't stop."

He moved slowly, until the pain began to ebb. It was still there, but soon became a dull ache and the quickening of pleasure began to course through her, rising in her belly like a slow flame he stoked each time he joined with her. She matched his movement, hips riding up to meet with his, to draw him deeper and deeper inside her. Vilkas moved faster, harder and she did too, rising up eagerly to match his thrusts as they scaled unforetold heights, explored, learned and came to know one another in ways neither of them had ever known another before.

She was like the shore and he was the waves, rushing through her, taking fragments of her soul into him each time he withdrew, bringing them back mingled with his own essence as he crashed into her again and again and again.

She'd never known anything like what she felt then. Vilkas was hard, and yet so soft, driven into a frenzy of passionate desire that made him nip and bite, growl and moan as she returned everything he gave. And then he would soften, slowing down the descent of his hips to ease through her as he whispered sweet words into her ear, promises, love… so much love it broke his heart when she wasn't near him, so deep it made him feel like the world would crumble beneath his feet each time he'd sent her away from him. She was everything to him, everything and so much more.

She didn't know how much time they spent in that warm, beautiful place, hours, days, an eternity of bliss and pain. When Vilkas finally let himself go, she felt empty and full all at once, her sore, tired body awakened by his touch.

He fell in above her, still inside her, his weight heavy atop her, but she didn't care. Let him crush her, let her body melt into his.

His kisses were soft then, the urgency within him sated for the moment, but the tenderness and infinite longing still there. "Never leave me again," he pleaded with such desperation it nearly broke her heart. "I never want to feel that way… that fear… I thought I'd lost you before I even had to the chance to tell you that I love you. Tell me you love me too, Luthien. I've waited so long to hear those words, to see it in your eyes."

"I do love you, Vilkas."

"Tell me again."

"I love you," she whispered. "I love you so much it hurts inside."

Her throat ached, eyes stinging, and though she'd fought so hard before to hide her tears from him for fear that he would think her weak, only there in the comfort of his arms could she finally let it all go. Vilkas rolled onto his back, drew her against his chest and brought the blankets up around them. He ran his fingers her through her hair, stroked the tears from her cheek, comforting her as she cried for her father, her mother, for Skjor and all the lives she'd taken in to avenge them all… it all threatened to overwhelm her, but when Vilkas quieted her with kisses and promised that no matter what she had to face, they would face it together, she felt safe for the first time since the Imperials put a sword through her father's heart.


	17. Chapter 17

Neither of them slept much that night. She didn't know if it was the beastblood that made them restless, or the overwhelming need to touch each other again and again, their bodies spent in ecstasy, but the fire within reigniting their passion every time one of them so much as moved. The last time he made love to her, it was just before dawn, the golden light of the rising sun just outside the windows promising a beautiful, cloudless day.

She drifted in and out of sleep, waking sometime mid-morning to find Vilkas propped and leaning above her, watching over her as she slept with a coy grin that hadn't left his face since the night before. She'd never seen him smile, not like that, and it made her heart swell that at last she'd achieved the one thing she had worked so hard for. He was tracing his finger over the amulet around her neck, staring at her face, and when she stirred, he immediately lowered in to bring her to life with his kiss.

"Good morning, love," he whispered, drawing back, brushing a lock of hair from her brow before falling in to kiss her again.

She stretched the aches from her tired body and swept her hand up his back until it rested on his shoulder. "Good morning."

"I imagine you slept about as well as I did." He fell into the bed beside her, his tired eyes staring at the ceiling above them.

"How could I sleep with such a strong, virile beast in my bed?"

He laughed. "I'm not so sure anymore it is me who is the beast. My back burns with scratches from those wicked claws of yours."

"Aw," she rolled into him, lifting her thigh across his and draping her arm over his chest. "My poor baby. Shall I kiss it better?"

"I want you to mark me again with them," he growled playfully, then drew her into a forceful kiss.

They scrambled beneath the sheets, the undying need to explore one another never satisfied, as there was always another height to scale to, another part of her body he had yet to kiss, but before they were able to endeavor much deeper than playful tickles and eager kisses down her quivering belly, a knock sounded at the bedroom door, and Vilkas lifted his head, the blanket that hid him falling away from his tousled hair.

"Tell her to go away and leave us alone," he whispered. "Can't she hear we're busy? We've been busy for hours. Surely she could hear," he raised his voice, making Luthien laugh.

"It could be important." She half sat, Vilkas resting his head on her shoulder before fluttering his lips along her collarbone. "What is it, Lydia?"

"I'm so sorry to bother you, my thane. It's just that… well, Farkas is here and he's looking for his brother. He said he didn't come home last night, and he's pretty worried. He seems to think you might have been the last person to speak with him, that maybe you have some idea where he might have gone when he left here."

"Oh for Talos' sake," Vilkas muttered. "Tell my brother he's going to be the death of me," he bellowed.

"You should go down and talk to him," Luthien said, smoothing the ruffled locks of his hair. "Let him know everything is all right."

"Lydia, please tell my brother I'm fine and I will come find him in a couple of hours." He started to duck back under the blanket again, but then thought better of it. "And you should take the day off. Head up to the market and have a look around. Buy something nice for yourself from the Gray-Mane woman. Just go away and leave us in peace."

"My thane?"

"It's all right, Lydia, go," she laughed. "I'll find you later if I need you."

"If that's what you wish, my thane."

"She wishes it a thousand times, now off with you. Hurry, before all the merchants are gone for the day."

They listened to Lydia's footsteps, the sound of her voice underneath the floor, and Farkas's muffled questions before finally the two of them were gone and they had the house to themselves again.

He raised his eyebrow, a wolfish grin drawing at the left corner of his mouth. "Now," he lifted the blanket, the chill of the air sweeping beneath it to cool her warm body. "Where were we?"

She didn't know how they found the strength to come together again so feverishly, but they did, and when Vilkas finally collapsed into the bed beside her with a satisfied groan, she laid next him waiting for her heartbeat to slow and the tingling of excitement to wane from her body.

It was all so new, so wonderful and new, and she wished they could stay there in that bed until the world fell away and left just the two of them until their final days. "I never knew it would be so… wonderful, and I don't want it to ever stop once it starts," she said, curling her body closer. He snuggled into her, and that safety she'd felt all night was stronger than ever.

"Neither do I, love," he admitted. "But eventually, the world will call us back to our places, and we will have to answer."

"Shh." She put a finger to his lips. "If we don't talk about it, maybe it won't happen."

Vilkas chuckled, pulling her tighter against him. "The world isn't going to stop for us, dear one, though I wish I could make it so."

"Me too."

They lay there in the silence of the house, listening to one another breathe for a long time and taking comfort in the soft strokes of each other's fingers—Vilkas tracing patterns along the curve of her shoulder, Luthien circling her finger through the sparse hair across his chest.

"What happens now, Vilkas?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Us?" she lifted her head to look down at him. "What happens between us now?"

"Everything. I plan to give you the world," he grinned. "As soon as things cool down a bit with the Silver Hand, we'll ride to Riften and I'll make you my wife." For a moment she thought she saw a flash of worry in his eyes, and he started to lift his head. "You do want to be my wife, don't you?"

She felt a tickle of emotion in her throat that didn't go away even when she cleared it with a soft laugh of relief. "Of course I do. I want to go now. Today, so I never have to spend another minute apart from you. Life is too short, Vilkas. You were right when you said that last night. Tomorrow it could be you, or me and I…"

"Oh love." He brought her down into his soft kiss, murmuring those words against her lips. "I want that too, believe me I do, but I don't think it's safe for us to travel, especially not to a place like Riften where even the rats spread rumors, at least not until the heat of vengeance dies down a bit. I wouldn't want anything to happen to you on the road to Riften. In fact, I don't want you to go anywhere for a little while. You should stay here, where it's safe."

"I can't stay here where it's safe, though I'm coming to feel like nowhere will ever be safe again. The Greybeards have asked me to do something and it really shouldn't wait," she said. "They want me to go to Ustengrav and find an artifact for them that they believe will help shed light on the return of the dragons."

"Do they really think you are the Dragonborn?" His eyebrow shot up with interest, though she saw an underlying hint of apprehension in his gaze. "What did they tell you when you went to High Hrothgar?"

"They taught me how to use the shouts of power, and there are dozens of these dragon words scattered all over the lands. Hidden away in caves, atop mountains, in dungeons," she said. "They said that when I killed the dragons, the one out by the Western Watchtower and the other in Rorikstead, I absorbed the power of their souls."

He closed his eyes as if trying to imagine it. "What was it like?"

"Terrifying," she admitted. "There is so much power there, waiting to be drawn from, like a well, and it scares me, Vilkas. I don't know what any of it means, or what I'm supposed to do with that power, but it's mine, my responsibility and my duty to try and figure it out before the dragons reclaim Skyrim and destroy everyone and everything in their path."

"It sounds dangerous. It won't be safe for you to go alone. You'll need a shield-brother," he said. "I'll come with you. To Ustengrav and anywhere else they ask you to go. We will figure it out together."

"Thank you." She lowered her head to his chest, brushing her lips across the skin there until he trembled. "I don't know if I can do it alone, but with you beside me… I feel like I could do…"

"Anything?" he asked.

Raising her eyes to his again, she smiled and said, "Everything."


	18. Chapter 18

It was well past midday when they finally mustered up the will to get out of bed, not because they'd grown tired of each other, but because they knew they had to. The world wasn't going to stop turning simply because they wished it would, but with Vilkas beside her, she didn't fear facing the others at Jorrvaskr, or the lingering grief of Skjor's death locked within the hall.

And it was there. She felt it as soon as they made their way up the steps. Skjor's troubled spirit seemed to linger on the wind, and for a moment she felt that vengeful fire burning in her gut again.

She was surprised to see Lydia there when they walked through the doors, she and Farkas tipping back cups of mead and sharing battle stories and glories.

Farkas saw them first, his face brightening when he glanced up. "Well, look who finally decided to get out of bed. Lazy day, brother?"

"There was nothing lazy about it, brother." Vilkas smirked across the table. "We aren't staying long, but I wanted to let you know where we were going."

"Back to bed, I would guess. That's where I'd go, if I were you."

Lydia snorted, hiding her laugh in her cup.

"As much as that would please me, there is work to be done, though you couldn't tell judging from the two of you, sitting around passing a bottle back and forth like a couple of retired adventurers sharing stories of arrows you took to the knee."

"We live the good life," Farkas grinned, nudging Lydia with his elbow. "So, where are we headed?"

"_We _aren't headed anywhere, little brother. Luthien and I are going to Ustengrav," he said. "You're staying here to look after things and run jobs for Kodlak while I'm gone."

"Ustengrav?" Farkas's face scrunched. "What the hell is in Ustengrav besides old crypts and nasty draugr?"

"An artifact the Greybeards asked me to retrieve," Luthien explained. "We shouldn't be gone long. Three days, maybe four."

"I'll come with you, my thane." Lydia rose from her chair. "Those old crypts can be dangerous. I am your sword and your shield, you know that."

"Not this time, Lydia," she said. "I'll have my shield-brother at my back. That's all I need."

"As you wish, my thane," she nodded solemnly.

"Hey," Farkas called out as they headed downstairs so Vilkas could grab his arms and armor. "Don't get my brother killed out there."

"I will guard him with my life," she promised.

Inside Vilkas's room, she lingered against the closed door, watching him rifle through his packs for the right equipment. They'd never gone out into the field together before, and though she had no idea what to expect, if the way he moved in the practice yard was any indication of his actual skill, she was sure he'd be a fierce companion to have along. A warrior didn't get three years into his twenties without wit and skill keeping him alive, and Vilkas was definitely a clever man.

"Do you have enough potions with you?" he glanced back over his shoulder at her.

"We'll stop at Arcadia's Cauldron on the way out of town and pick up a few more. You can never have too many."

"Good thinking."

"I wish…" she started, then stopped, not wanting to sound foolish in front of him for fear it would start the cycle all over again and make him turn away.

"What do you wish, love?" he turned around, his helmet held slack at his side. "Tell me and I'll make it come true."

"Nothing," she shook her head. "It's silly."

"Wishes are never silly," he said. "Especially not yours. Tell me what you wish," he took a step toward her and brushed his knuckles down her cheek before ducking her chin up so she had no choice but to look at him. "What can I give you? The moons? The stars?"

"I wish it could always be like this. You and me," she said. "That every time you looked at me, I saw that fire in your eyes."

"It always will be like this, as long as we both live." His soft lips murmured against hers. "I will make sure of it." His kisses grew more urgent, the helmet in his hand dropping onto the bed beside them just before he lifted both hands to rest on the back of her head, fingers tangling into her hair.

But before that kiss could lead them back into the melted depths of each other's arms, someone rapped on the door outside and he reluctantly drew back.

"Yes?"

"Vilkas, I'd like to speak with Luthien."

"Of course, Harbinger." He opened the door to allow Kodlak into the room. "We were just packing to leave for Ustengrav. Come in, please."

"I'd like to speak with Luthien in private, if you don't mind, Vilkas."

"Not at all," he nodded. "I will wait for you in the mead hall," Vilkas said, grabbing his helmet again and slinging his pack over his shoulder before heading out the door. He glanced back at her before turning into the hallway, offering a slow smile and a wink that made her knees feel weak, and her heart feel strong.

It must have been written all over her face, not that she felt she had anything to hide, but when Kodlak spoke again, it made her feel ashamed. "It isn't easy to find such powerful love in a world like ours," Kodlak looked up at her. "You are both very lucky, but that isn't what I wanted to talk to you about."

"If it's about Skjor…"

"It is about Skjor." He held his hand up to quiet her. "You and Aela made quite a mess of things, but under the circumstances…" Pausing, he shook his head, the long braid of his hair falling down against the war paint symbol that decorated his right cheek. "The grief in your hearts must be overwhelming. We all grieve for Skjor, but the way you two went about that business… I fear it will bring a hailstorm down upon us all."

"I'm sorry, Harbinger. There is guilt in my heart, but I cannot apologize for the things we did… I did. If you'd seen…" Lowering her gaze to the floor, she felt her eyes burning again with unshed tears. "There aren't enough words in the world to describe the horrors we saw there. The things they did to Skjor were wrong."

"And that made the things you and Aela did right?" She was surprised then when he lifted a hand to her shoulder and offered her silent comfort. "You were right to avenge your shield-brother, but you are still so new to the beastblood, and sometimes allowing vengeance to overwhelm those with our curse… Well, let's just say it only makes the vengeance burn stronger until it is all we can feel in our hearts."

She was afraid to look into his eyes, a part of her knowing that seeing his disappointment in her would make her cry, make her look weak in front of the Harbinger.

"I feel we have not had much time to sit together and talk, you and I. There is so much I want to share with you, but alas, it doesn't seem today is the day to trouble a young adventurer with an old man's thoughts. You and Vilkas are traveling, I hear? To Ustengrav, or is it Riften you run off to?" There was a gleam in his eyes, the lines in his face softening. For a moment he reminded her of her father and she felt a great affection for him.

"We are heading up to Ustengrav," she nodded. "I am going to retrieve the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller for the Greybeards and Vilkas offered to come with me."

"Ah," he nodded. "The Greybeards. So they think you are the Dragonborn, then?"

"It is possible," she said.

"Well, that matter is far more important than anything I might have to say. Perhaps when you return, you can find time to come and sit with me awhile. There is much for us to talk about, you and me."

"Of course, I will, Harbinger."

"Good," he nodded, withdrawing his hand from her shoulder. "May the Gods watch over your battles, shield-sister."

"And yours."

Vilkas was waiting for her in the practice yard. Well, he wasn't exactly waiting. It seemed he'd grown bored and restless, tackling his brother until the two of them rolled across the stone like children, Farkas in a headlock, the two of them laughing, wrestling like two pups trying to dominate one another. She'd never seen him playful, Farkas, yes, but never Vilkas, and this whole new side to him only confirmed that there was so much about him she still didn't know.

She only hoped the gods granted them both long lives, so there was enough time to learn everything there was to know, and plenty leftover to enjoy one another.

It was Vilkas who came up from their playful skirmish, triumphant as he brushed the dust and grass from his clothes while walking toward her.

"And they say he's the one with the strength of Ysgramor."

"Ah, I let you win, so you wouldn't feel small and humiliated in front of the ladies," Farkas growled, jaunting to catch up with his brother. "You sure you don't want me to come along with you two on this one? I don't know much about Ustengrav, but it sounds pretty dangerous. Probably plenty of draugr just itching for my blade."

"Kodlak needs you here, brother. Especially with Skjor gone and Aela in such a distant place right now."

"Be careful out there," he said. "Both of you."

"We will."

Luthien stepped back and watched the brothers embrace, Vilkas clapping his brother heartily on the shoulder before they headed away from Jorrvaskr.


	19. Chapter 19

It was a three day walk to Ustengrav, in Hjaalmarch Hold, and as they headed out she saw the sun was already dipping low into the horizon, nestling in soon to rest behind the mountains. It would be dark soon, and she didn't know far they would get before they had to stop for the night.

Traveling with Vilkas was nothing like she'd imagined. She'd expected him to be thoughtful, silent, ever watchful for danger, and while he did certainly keep close watch on their surroundings, he was more talkative than she'd ever seen him. She liked that side of him, the unexpected new openness they shared, as he talked about growing up in Jorrvaskr and the mischief he and Farkas used to get into as small boys.

"We used to torment poor old Tilma," he shook his head. "It's a wonder she didn't take us out back and tan our hides, but she never did. She loved us too much."

She tried to imagine the two of them small, but considering their size, it was almost difficult. It didn't stop her mind from wandering though, her imagination trying to show her what her own sons might look like one day, if she and Vilkas were ever blessed with children. She didn't know how that worked. If the beastblood made it impossible for them to have a family of their own, if Vilkas even wanted to have children one day.

"Do you like children?"

He tilted his head to look at her. "I haven't been around many children, unless you count Farkas."

"Would you ever want to have children someday? You know, when you are married."

"You mean when _we_ are married," he grinned. "To be honest, I never really thought much about it. I never expected I would find a woman who… you know… understood my unique curse, much less one who shared it."

"Could we even have children?"

"I don't see why not. Despite our curse, we are still a man and a woman." There was that grin again, and it made her feel a longing inside that she knew only his touch could sate. "But would you really want to bring a child into this world, things being what they are? War… dragons…our curse?"

"I don't know. My mother used to say that it was children who made the world worth living in. They brought hope to the hopeless, laughter to the weary and light into the darkness. She used to say, show me a child's smile that isn't bright enough to shed light on the darkness, and I will show you the end of our days."

"Hmm," he thought on that for a while, the two of them moving quietly along the road together, side by side as the moons began to rise. She felt their pull, calling to the beast inside her, drawing on her soul, but she pushed it away. "Your mother sounds like she was a very smart woman. I bet she was very beautiful as well."

"My father said I looked just like her, and that one day he would have to lock me in a tower to keep the men in our village from stealing me away. I never believed him."

"Your father sounds like he was also a smart man, and an honest man as well."

"He was a simple man." She'd pushed so much of that sorrow deep down inside her, that drawing it back to the surface hurt more than she could have ever dreamed. "A blacksmith, though he always said he wanted to be a warrior, he was more of a family man at heart. He used to say he gave up all his foolish dreams when he met my mother, and he never had a single regret. I told myself after the Imperials killed him that he would have wanted me to take up arms and avenge him, but now I'm not so sure that's what he would have wanted at all."

"Whatever your father wanted for you, you are on the path the gods chose for you, Luthien. The path you were meant to walk."

"I guess," she nodded solemnly.

"No," he stopped on the road and turned into her, reaching up to grip her arms. "Don't guess, never guess. Know, Luthien." He pointed to her chest. "Know it in here. In your heart and soul. You are exactly where you are supposed to be, doing what you are supposed to do. Never forget that."

She swallowed and lifted her face, saw the light of the moon gleaming in his eyes. "I won't."

"Good." His grip on her arms relaxed, his face softening too as a slow smile played upon his lips. "We should find somewhere quiet and safe to camp for the night. I'm getting hungry, and I don't think either of us got much sleep last night."

She brushed past him, holding his stare as she walked. "If you think you'll get any sleep tonight, you're a fool."

He laughed, falling into step beside her, eager to find a campsite.

There was a chill in the air, and she knew morning would bring a glistening layer of frost to the ground, but Vilkas built a strong fire while she set up their bedrolls and sat down to rifle through her pack for food. He sat beside her, the two of them quiet now, watching flame lap at the darkness as they shared a haunch of venison, some cheese and bread and passed a bottle of Black-Briar mead between them to wash it all down.

In the distance, she heard the bay of a wolf, and then another lifting its voice in chorus. Their song awoke her wolf spirit, and there was an almost undeniable urge to run with her lover, hunt with him beneath the moons, the two of them giving in to their animal nature and letting the weight of the world go for a little while. What would it be like? How would it feel to make love with him in that way? Their bodies overrun with insatiable hunger and animal desire?

But Vilkas thought the beastblood was a curse, and she didn't know what she thought about it anymore. It was dangerous, and she knew it, but it was a part of who she was now and there was no turning back. If she gave into its calling, would it overtake her again, the way it had when she and Aela had hunted down the Silver Hand?

"How long has it been for you?" she asked, handing the bottle back to him and wrapping her arms around her knees, drawing them close to her body so she could rest her head to look over at him.

Vilkas had heard the wolves too, and he knew what she meant. He crossed his legs and rested his hands on his thighs, tilting his head back as he tried to remember. "First seed, I think it was. Just a week or so before you came to Jorrvaskr."

"That's what you and Kodlak were talking about the night I came."

"Aye," he nodded. "It was so hard for me to resist the call of the beast."

"Is it still difficult for you?"

"At times," his voice grew quieter than it had been just moments before. "I couldn't understand how Kodlak had held back for so long, how he could expect me not to give in."

"How long has it been for him?"

"More than a year now."

"Wow."

"Yes, it still amazes me that he is so strong, especially since he took the rot. It's not as easy for him to concentrate as it once was, but I fear he is not long for this world." There was sadness in his voice then. "He told me once that if he could take it all back, he would. Farkas and I were the last to take the curse, and then you… Kodlak never intended for that." His hand came up to move a lock of hair from her cheek and he tucked it back behind her ear. "Neither did I. That was why I kept sending you so far away. I thought if I could just keep you from Skjor…"

"It was my choice."

"I know," he admitted. "I just don't understand why you made it."

"Farkas transformed when we were in Dustman's Cairn," she began. "I was trapped behind a gate that had fallen and the Silver Hand had surrounded him. He would have been slaughtered if he hadn't, and I couldn't do a damn thing to help him. I asked him later about the Circle, asked him if that meant I would have to take the beastblood too, if I wanted to be a part of it, but he said no. It was my choice. When Skjor asked me, I thought about you, not just you, but all of you. You were my family, and if I was to be one of you, I wanted to share all of your burdens."

"It is a burden I wish I could have spared you from," he lamented.

"But now you don't have to carry it alone."

She didn't even tell him that she wanted to run with him beneath the moons, but decided then as he made love to her beneath the clear sky, a canvas of brilliant stars winking and shimmering above them, that she would never let the beast overtake her again. She would be strong, like Vilkas, like Kodlak, and hold her wolf inside, even if it tore her soul apart.

She watched over him as he slept then, a fitful rest that made him whimper and toss, withheld mutterings passing across his lips until he jolted upright in the dark, wide-eyed and afraid. When he looked at her, the fear began to fade, but his body remained stiff, even when Luthien drew him back into her arms, soothed him with kisses and whispers that everything would be all right.

Come morning, she woke from her own troubled sleep to find him bent before the fire warming his hands and staring off into the distance. She walked up to stand beside him and he lifted his face to meet her gaze. There was blood drying on his hands, and when he saw the alarm twist her features, he gestured toward a pile of wolves, three of them, dead and stacked together just a few feet away from camp.

"They came in early, sniffing around the fire. They could smell us, the beastblood drawing them in, and they would have left us alone out of respect, but…"

She lowered her hand atop his head and he rested his cheek against her leg. He didn't have to say anymore. She understood, and it made her very sad.


	20. Chapter 20

Vilkas's mood had shifted. He was still loving toward her, his feelings hadn't changed, but their conversation and his encounter with the wolves had troubled him and he didn't seem much like talking. She left him to his thoughts, telling herself he would talk if he needed to, and feeling a little sad when he didn't. She forgot sometimes how different men were from women. It was easy for her to talk about her feelings, no matter how deep and painful they were, and it had always been so, but none of the men she'd ever known had so easily let go of the things inside that ate away at them from the inside. Well, except for Farkas, but it didn't ever seem like much got him down and she envied that about him.

They spent much of their second day traveling in silence, and that night when he made love to her, there was such fire in him she thought they would both burn to ash before he was satisfied. Afterward, he held her so close, so tight, it was hard for her to breathe, and when he thought she'd fallen asleep, he kissed her forehead and left her there to lie alone while he stood guard all night beside the fire.

She was glad they hadn't encountered any Silver Hands. There was no telling how much further over the edge that would have pushed him, but when they crept up on a mage's camp just outside of Ustengrav, he wiped every last one of them before she'd even fully drawn her sword.

As they made their way down the wide steps that led into the temple, Vilkas held up his arm and gestured with his head to let her know there was trouble ahead. She nodded, and quietly lifted her blade, the two of them sneaking into the circle nearly undetected and wiping out three of the five necromancers before they even knew what hit them. The last two weren't so easy, raising the bodies of the dead to fight for them, and as she and Vilkas fought back to back to fend them off, she started to think maybe coming to Ustengrav hadn't been a good idea.

Beyond the mages, draugr awaited, but Luthien was surprised to find a number of them already slain, their lifeless bodies littering the pathway like beacons showing them which direction they needed to go. They wound through the cobweb encrusted catacombs, battling the occasional draugr until they came to an open grott that led down into a green valley, the constant sound of falling water backed by that strange chanting she'd heard the last two times she and Farkas had gone out together.

"That's… breathtaking," Vilkas came up on her left shoulder and peered down into hidden valley below. "I've never seen anything like it."

"Come on," she started down the side path to her right, realizing as soon as she did, she'd have to jump down to the water's edge. "There's something down here I need to check out."

"What is it?"

"A wall," she said. "Like the ones I told you about the other day, with the dragon words carved into them."

She followed the path into a recess behind the waterfall, the constant chant of those strange voices calling to her until she came into the alcove. The glowing word on the wall hummed and vibrated, swirling outward until it wrapped around her body, squeezing its way into her until her legs felt like jelly and her heart swelled with its power. If Vilkas hadn't been standing behind her, she would have fallen, but he held his arms out to steady her, murmuring, "I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes. Are you all right?"

"I just need a minute," she assured him. "It's like this incredible force and it just sweeps through me like a… like a storm."

"Here," he drew a bottle of ale from her pack and brought it to her lips. "Drink this, love."

She swallowed a few gulps. "It's not as hard as it was last time, and Master Arngeir says it will get easier with time, but it still packs a mighty punch."

"And you've already been pummeled by this place as it is. How much further before we find this Horn of Jurgen Windcaller you're searching for?"

"Check the map." She handed it over to him and watched as he scanned it with a critical eye, tracing his finger over that pathways and glancing up at the grotto they'd come from before looking back down at the map.

"Not far. We need to head back up there. There's a path on the right, but not until you have your strength back."

"Let me walk it off," she said. "My head is already clearer and by the time we get to the top of the hill, I should be okay."

"Are you sure?"

Nodding, he gave in, helping her stand and offering his arm as they trekked back up to the landing just below the throne room. She felt better, her no longer swimming with that power, blood no longer simmering in her veins, but the real test came when they reached a glowing triad of stones that only seemed to open the gates ahead when she stepped on them, closing again quickly as soon as she moved off.

"I know what I have to do," she looked down. "You'll have to run, Vilkas, and fast. Stand beside the gates, and as soon as the first one opens, go through it and wait for the next one. Go all the way to the other side and wait for me there."

"But how…"

"You have to trust me," she said. "Do you trust me?"

"With my life," he started toward the gates, passing through them as she opened them one by one, and disappearing into the dark tunnel. He called out when he was on the other side, and she backed up, drawing in a deep breath.

"Here goes nothing," she sighed it free, sprinting across the stones as she summoned the power from within her, she shouted the word Master Borri had shown her, "WULD!" It was just like she'd practiced in High Hrothgar, a force like the wind carrying her body forward so quickly she barely saw the walls as she passed through the gates and came out on the other side just before they closed.

She hit the wall, catching it with her outstretched arms and pushing herself off, stumbling over her own footing and landing on her backside. It had been a lot easier when she'd been practicing under the Greybeards' guidance, but at least she'd done it and lived to tell about it.

"What was that?"

"Whirlwind Sprint," she grinned as Vilkas lifted her back to her feet. "The Greybeards taught me how to do that."

He was impressed, a reaction she wasn't used to garnering from him. "What else did these Greybeards teach you?"

"So many things, and yet it feels like I've barely scratched the surface of all there is to learn."

"In time, love." He lowered his arm over her shoulder. "Just remember what I said the other day about your path. You are exactly where the gods want you to be, doing their will."

She nodded. They took a few moments to regain their bearings, Luthien shaking off the dizziness that came with traveling so fast it felt like she was no longer a part of her body, while Vilkas consulted with the map again.

"We need to head east." He glanced up, folding the map and tucking it back into his pack. "Through a door beyond that wall over there. The crypt should be just on the other side."

They crept carefully along the stone walkway, avoiding the fire traps after accidentally discovering them when she depressed one and nearly roasted both of them. To make the situation even more dangerous, two frostbite spiders descended from their hidden alcoves near the ceiling, spitting venom and gnashing their teeth, ready for a fight.

Fortunately, Vilkas did not share his brother's aversion to arachnids, and he took out the one to their left while she polished off the one to the right. Back to back, they stood catching their breath and watching the corpse of the spider Vilkas had killed crisping in the flames rising up from the floor trap it had fallen onto when it died.

"You've gotten much better with a blade since we first met," he remarked, grinning over his shoulder at her.

"What can I say? I had a pretty good teacher."

"Perhaps when we get back, we'll have Eorlund make you an axe from Skyforge Steel, and I can train you to use that." He raised his left eyebrow twice, still grinning as he said, "It's all in the swing."

"Nothing would please me more, but first, we need to get out of here."

"You lead."

He followed her carefully across the last of the fire traps and through the thick, sticky wall of web that blocked the way into the crypt of Jurgen Windcaller. There was a chain beside the door that released the gate into the tomb, and previous experience had her expecting an army of draugr as soon as the gate lifted, but nothing came. And then the whole crypt began to tremble as four dragon head statues climbed up out of the water, splashing the path as they rose and spraying water back on them both.

"This place… it's incredible."

"And dangerous."

"I've got your back," Vilkas promised as she started down the stairs, toward the undisturbed tomb with her sword raised and her gaze shifting left and right through the shadows as she walked. The only sound was the dripping of water from those great statues as it plunked down to the stone floor and rippled in the water already there.

She was glad for the sound of his footsteps behind her, glad that he would be with her when she found the horn. Maybe she could convince him to come back to High Hrothgar with her to return it, and he could experience the peacefulness of the monastery that had brought her so much comfort in the face of desperation.

When she reached the tomb, she felt every muscle in her body tighten as she realized the horn wasn't there.

"What the…" she reached out and snatched the rolled parchment from the stone-carve hands that once held the horn up high and began to unravel.

"What is it?"

Clearing her throat, she read it aloud, "Dragonborn—I need to speak to you. Urgently. Rent the attic room at the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood, and I'll meet you.—A friend."

"A friend?" He grabbed the note from her hands and read over it again. "Who is this friend? Where's the horn?"

"Whoever it is, they must have taken it." A frustrated sigh deflated her and she felt back to rest against the crypt. "All that, for nothing."

"This person… what if they took the horn? You could go and get it back from them."

"It sounds like a trap to me. Whoever it is, they knew I was going to be here."

"Then if it was a trap, why didn't they just wait for you here?"

"Maybe they saw my big strong shield-brother and he scared them away."

Vilkas squinted, clearly not amused. "The Greybeards sent you to do a job, Luthien, and what is the Companions' philosophy on a job left undone?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "A job left undone is a job someone else gets paid for?"

"You've obviously spent far too much time in the field with my brother. A job left undone is a job that will still need doing tomorrow."

"It's nearly four days to Riverwood from here."

"Then let's not waste any time."


	21. Chapter 21

The road to Riverwood was fairly uneventful, though she certainly didn't include lying beneath her lover and the stars uneventful. Vilkas's mood seemed to improve significantly, whatever darkness had clutched him in its grip fading until she saw hints of the playful side she'd seen when he and Farkas had been rough-housing just outside Jorrvaskr before they left for Ustengrav. He plucked lavender for her, and she wove it into a crown that made him smile when she put it on.

They bathed together in a hot spring just outside of Bleakwind Basin, the two of them splashing naked through the warm water. She laughed and squealed when Vilkas drug her down facing him in his lap, his never ending desire for her immediately rising to the occasion as he lifted a hand to smooth the damp hair from her cheek before drawing her down into his hungry, waiting kiss. He gripped and guided her hips in his strong hands, lifting, lowering, drawing out every moment of bliss as long as he could before letting himself go.

Luthien's heart was full and content. He drew up beside her as she shook the water from her hair afterward, brought her into his arms and rested his forehead against hers and she knew that the love she and Vilkas shared was what her father would have wanted for her.

The Sleeping Giant Inn was empty, save for that obnoxious bard, who scowled at her and muttered under his breath that she was nothing but trouble when she and Vilkas walked through the door. She ignored him and went straight to the bar, asking to rent the attic room. The man behind the counter looked at her as if she was on the high end of a three day Skooma binge, telling her they didn't have an attic room, but she was welcome to the room on her left if she had the gold to pay for it.

Vilkas put ten septims down on the bar, but before the man could step out to show them to the room, a woman she thought she recognized stepped up with a broom in her hand. "I knew you'd come."

"Excuse me?"

"It's not safe to talk here, but if you come with me, I can explain everything."

"I'm not going anywhere with you. Where's the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller?"

"Here, it's right here, but please." She held the horn out and Luthien snatched it from her grasp, quickly tucking it into her pack. "I really need to talk to you. It's urgent."

"How do I know I can trust you? You've already proven yourself a thief."

"I'm no more a thief than you are, creeping through old crypts to steal artifacts that don't belong to you."

"Who the hell are you?"

"If you really want to know, come with me… alone."

"She doesn't go anywhere without me." Vilkas held his arm out to stop Luthien from going any further.

The blonde woman's face twisted into a scowl, and then she yielded. "Fine, but keep in mind, I'm a lot stronger than I look."

They followed her through the room on the left, and after Vilkas closed the door, she opened a secret entrance that led into the basement underneath the inn. There was a weapon rack on the wall and an alchemy lab with ingredients scattered across the surface. The woman bent over the table, and leveled her gaze at Luthien, her fierce eyes unblinking.

"I've been watching you for months," she explained, after a long silence Vilkas finally broke by clearing his throat. "Since you brought the Dragonstone to Farengar in Whiterun."

"That's where I know you from," Luthien remembered. "You were there with him, going on about some dragon burial mounds."

"Yes. I was still in town when the dragon attacked the tower, and I heard the Greybeards call for you. I wanted to get to you before they did, before they could fill your head with a bunch of self-righteous nonsense, but I lost track of you for a while. I knew they would send you for the horn, so I took it and left the note because I wanted you to come here."

"Well, I'm here now. What do you want from me and why all the secrecy?"

"I'm part of a secret group that has been searching for one like you for a very long time, but I had to be careful. Thalmor spies are everywhere, and I couldn't take a chance that you were one of them."

"Do I look like a Thalmor spy to you?"

"You don't look like the Dragonborn either, but if you are… Look, both of us are at an impasse here. I don't trust you, and you don't trust me. If you could just come with me, prove that you're the Dragonborn… I need to see you absorb a dragon soul."

Luthien shook her head, not sure what this woman was up to, but she didn't trust her. "No," she started. "I'm not a jester who performs at will to satisfy the curiosity of strangers. Now if you'll excuse me, we're done here."

"Wait," the woman called after her, but she was already on her way back up the stairs. She heard her say, "If you change your mind, find me. I'll be here. Please. I really think we can help each other."

She stormed through the inn and out the door, Vilkas trailing behind her.

"Of all the…" she fumed as he caught up. She didn't like that she'd been so easily tricked, or the fact that her status as Dragonborn was bringing all kinds of crazies out of the woodwork. "Who does that woman think she is? Asking me to perform for her like some kind of trained cave bear at a circus?"

He let her rant, following beside her and just listening to her vent until they found the road. He reached for her then, drawing her to a halt and spinning her around to face him. "I don't think her asking you to prove that you're the Dragonborn is comparable to asking you to perform like a cave bear in the circus." There was a teasing smile hinting at the corner of his mouth. "But you're right not to trust her. When you take the horn back to the Greybeards, perhaps they can shed light on who this woman is and what she might actually want with you."

"Yes," she nodded. "We have the horn, and I will take it to them, but right now I just want to go home."

"Me too."

It was only a few hours to Whiterun, but it felt like days, the strain of the road finally catching up with them as they passed through the gates. Vilkas wanted to see his brother, and parted ways with her at the door of Breezehome, promising to come back and fall into bed with her after he'd dropped off his gear.

She was glad the house was empty when she went inside. With Lydia nowhere to be seen, maybe they would get a good night's rest without disturbance, not that either of them seemed to even know what rest was anymore unless it involved soft caresses or playful tumbling beneath the blankets. Stripping out of her armor, it felt like she'd taken at least half the weight of the world from her shoulders. The other half of that weight seemed like it would never go away, but at least she had someone to share the burden with her.

Crawling into bed, she only meant to wait for him there, but sleep overcame her and though it was never restful, she didn't wake until early the next morning. Vilkas had let himself into the house and curled up beside her in bed, and she hadn't even stirred. He was still asleep when she crept from bed and pulled into her clothes. She headed downstairs and make him breakfast and then carried it up to share with him in bed.

He stirred when he heard her come in, lifting his head to watch her and then sitting up to take the tray she'd brought so she could climb back into bed with him.

"What is this?" he asked. "Breakfast in bed?"

"It's just a little salmon," she shrugged. "I wanted you to get your nutrients in now because I plan to keep you prisoner all day in this bed."

He tilted his head, lament shadowing his gaze. "Love, I wish I could, I really do, but something's come up and I have to go down to Falkreath. I promised Kodlak I would first thing this morning."

"Then I'll come with you," she offered.

Vilkas shook his head, reaching for the bread. "Farkas is coming along, and Kodlak has asked me to send you to Jorrvaskr today. He says there's something he's been wanting to talk with you about. He wouldn't say what, but it sounded important."

"All right," she nodded. "How long will you be gone?"

"A day, maybe two, but as soon as I get back, I want to go to the temple in Riften. I laid awake last night for hours watching you sleep and I… I want to make you my wife as soon as possible." It felt like her heart skipped a beat inside her chest.

"What about the Silver Hand? Aren't you still worried?"

"Life is too short, Luthien. Will you come with me?"

"Of course I will."

Even though he'd promised to leave first thing, he couldn't leave without a proper goodbye that took far longer than it should have, but neither of them cared. It was hard to let go of each other, but she knew she was going to have to let him go sometimes, just as he would her. They had the rest of their lives together, and there would be jobs they wouldn't always be able to do together; she just had to make sure she never let that keep them apart.

She stood on the front steps with him, gripping the mail shirt beneath his armor, her lower lip trembling as he leaned in to kiss her goodbye. She looked up and saw Farkas coming down the hill from the merchant circle and felt her chest tighten.

"It's only a day or two," he reminded her, his knuckle brushing across her cheek before he bent down to kiss her forehead. "I will get the job done quickly and come back to carry you away."

"It already feels too long and you haven't even left yet." She disguised her sadness with a laugh.

"Hey, remember when the two of you couldn't stand to be in the same room with each other? Now we can barely pry you apart." The deep sound of Farkas's voice breaking up their moment was enough to remind her the brothers would be together, looking out for each other. "I think your exact words as we were heading into Dustman's Cairn were, _I do not love your brother, Farkas_. You're a pretty bad liar."

"You be quiet," she chuckled, jumping down the step and walking toward him. She put her arms around his chest and brought him close. "Take care of each other out there, okay," she pleaded as she stepped back to look him in the eye. "Bring him back to me."

Farkas nodded. "Will do."

"All right," she stepped back. "Go, both of you, before I get emotional."

Vilkas gripped her wrist and drew her near again. "I'll see you soon," he promised, stealing into her kiss one last time.

She didn't know how long she stood by Breezehome, staring at the empty gate her lover had passed through, but it had started to rain and the cold drops on her face brought her back to herself. After locking up the house, she made her way up the hillside to Jorrvaskr to seek out Kodlak. She found him in the sitting room outside his chambers, where he was scribbling almost feverishly in and old journal. He didn't notice her standing there until she cleared his throat, startling him from the private thoughts he penned.

"Vilkas said you wanted to see me, Harbinger."

"I did," he nodded. "I mean, I do. Please, won't you sit down?"

She sat down and took a sweet roll when he offered one to her, nibbling on the sugared cream melted across the top.

"Vilkas and Farkas set out then?"

"They left a little while ago."

"And you? Did you find what the Greybeards asked you to locate for them?"

"Yes, but we didn't return it to High Hrothgar yet. Soon," she said. "I would like to take Vilkas back to the monastery with me. I found a little bit of peace there, and I think… I think he might appreciate it."

Kodlak nodded understanding and rested his hand atop the leather cover of his journal. "He has worked so hard to resist, and he's done well, but the beastblood torments him. Do you know how the Companions came to be cursed with the beastblood, Luthien?"

"Skjor said it was a gift."

"Skjor was proud of that gift, and his spirit will roam in Hircine's Hunting Grounds for all eternity. Perhaps he will be happy there, but that is not my wish. My warrior's heart longs for Sovngarde, but hundreds of years ago, the Companions made a pact with the Glenmoril witches. They promised strength and power unlike anything they could have ever dreamed, but it was a cruel trick and the price we've paid for generations has been to give up our place in Sovngarde."

"The witches tricked the Companions?"

"For some, Hircine's Hunting Grounds are a worthy resting place, but that is not the place for me…"

"What do you mean?"

"I have been doing some research, and I think I may have a way to reverse the curse, but I'm an old man, Luthien. My mind is not what it once was and my axe feels cold in my hand."

She had never thought there might be a way to reverse the curse, but the mere possibility immediately made her think of Vilkas. Kodlak was right. Of everyone, Vilkas seemed to suffer the curse more deeply, his emotions tangling with the beast's spirit until he burned hot as fire through and through. One day, she feared that fire would destroy him, but if she could stop that from happening…

"Will you help me?" Kodlak's voice sounded meager, almost helpless as he reached out to her then.

"Of course, Harbinger. What do you need me to do?"

"The magic that wrought the curse is the only cure, and that magic is in the heads of the Glenmoril witches."

"We will go there, as soon as Vilkas and Farkas return, and exterminate the entire coven."

Kodlak's hand came down on hers, his gnarled fingers curling over her hand. He was trembling, and she wondered how much of that was his age and how much of it was fear. "I would like you to go now," he said. "I fear I am not much longer for this world, and I don't want to take any chances."

Luthien's brow wrinkled. Vilkas had said he feared Kodlak didn't have much longer to live, and now Kodlak himself had confirmed that fear. She hadn't spent much time with Kodlak, not near as much as she would have liked, but there was no denying he was like a father figure to them all. It hadn't even been a full year since she lost her own father, and she couldn't begin to imagine enduring the pain of losing this kind man who'd taken her in, given her a home and a future.

"I understand, Harbinger. I will go right away."

"Thank you, child." His whole face lit up, the shine in his eyes touching her heart. "You are making an old man very happy."


	22. Chapter 22

She found Lydia back at Breezehome and after the two of them slipped into their armor and packed their gear, they sprinted southwest, across the tundra plains and up the mountain through the pouring rain, which turned to sleet the further south they went. It was dark by the time they reached the cave the Glenmoril witches dwelt, and Luthien found herself stepping back to survey the entrance with apprehension.

She needed to get in there, get the job done and get the heads back to Kodlak before Vilkas and Farkas returned. It would all be easier to explain when they got home, than if she ran into them on the road because they had come looking for her.

She didn't know what to expect. Kodlak had only said to be careful, and reminded her to make sure she had plenty of healing potions in her satchel because the witches were mad with violence.

Lydia dropped down into the cavern first, Luthien sliding in behind her and settling silently onto the earthen floor. She ducked down and crept forward in hopes of catching the witches off guard, but a skeever came at her, its red eyes glinting in the darkness just before Lydia brought down her blade and cut it in half.

The sound of the skeever screaming in protest alerted a witch, who'd been lingering just inside the cave entrance. Lightening streamed from her fingers, piercing through the open spots in Luthien's armor and coursing through her body like crackling pain. She dropped to the ground, trembling hands reaching for her pack for a healing potion as Lydia ran past her with her sword up high yelling, "Now you'll pay!"

The potion moved through her quickly, and she pushed herself from the ground, grabbing her sword as she moved. The witch had Lydia cornered near the wall, and she hadn't seen Luthien coming until it was too late. Her blade swept left, hacking through the old crone's thin sinew, muscle and brittle bone, head tumbling to the ground with a dull thud seconds before her ancient body crumpled like and empty potato sack.

Luthien reached down and grabbed the ugly hag's head by the hair and threw it into the empty bag she'd brought with her. "That one's for Kodlak," she said, as she caught her breath.

They snuck through the corridors, moving in behind the second witch before she saw them coming. As Luthien moved through the shadows to strike from behind, Lydia came at her from the front before she had a chance to summon her magic. Hacking her sword down to sever the dead woman's head from her body, she gripped it and stuffed it into the bag with the other, declaring, "That one's for Vilkas."

The third witch, she struck down for Farkas, the fourth for Aela, the fifth one, that one was for Skjor… even if he would rather roam Hircine's hunting grounds, she wanted to do it for him anyway. She had a feeling that he would have appreciated the gesture, even if he would have likely turned down the opportunity to cure his beastblood.

It was nearly dawn before they tunneled their way out of the witches' den, covered in black blood and the stink of death and rot, but Luthien felt good. She had come to do what Kodlak asked her to and she couldn't wait to see the look on the old man's face when she dropped that bag on the floor at his feet and shared the story of her triumph with him as he prepared for the next part of his plan.

She sprinted all the way home, having to stop several times to wait for Lydia to catch up, out of breath, but at the ready to carry on. They ran through morning, following the northeast road as the sun glinted down on their faces. Luthien thought about Farkas and Vilkas, wondered if they'd come back from Falkreath yet, or if maybe she might even run into them on the road, but the only other person they came upon was a lone Khajiit, who tried to sell them Skooma and Moon Sugar.

When Luthien saw White Run, she told Lydia she would catch up with her at home and sprinted all the way up to the gates, past Warmaiden's and Breezehome, through the merchant circle and partway up the stairs before the sound of battle cries and clanging metal at Jorrvaskr caught her attention. She saw a flash of silver glint in the failing light of the setting sun, and then heard Aela's shrill war cry before the Silver Hand fell at her feet.

"That one won't be a problem anymore," she said, as Luthien raced to the landing.

"What happened?"

"Silver Hand," she shook her head. "They finally found the stones to hit us where it really hurts. They attacked Jorrvaskr…"

Vilkas came barreling out the front doors of Jorrvaskr, and when he saw her on the landing he raced down, such fury in his eyes it terrified her.

"Where were you?" he shouted. "You were supposed to be here, but you weren't."

"I was doing a job for Kodlak."

"Well, I hope it was important because Kodlak is dead."

Those words struck her like a blow to the chest, and she felt herself stagger backwards as if he'd actually hit her. "No," she choked, shaking her head in disbelief. "No, no, no…"

"You should have been here, Luthien, and you weren't and I don't know if I should be glad because you were spared, or angry because maybe you could have protected him."

She pushed past him and nearly flew up the stairs, blowing open the doors to the mead hall so quickly, the whole hall rattled. There was a Silver Hand dead on the stairs, but then she saw Farkas on his knees beside the old man's body, his face streaked with tears. Njada knelt on the other side, rocking back and forth as she tried to hold her own sobs in with her cupped hands.

Luthien scanned the hall, saw Ria leaning over Athis, who lay moaning on his side, a pool of blood leaking onto the rug beneath him.

"I'm too late," she muttered to herself. "He said there was a cure and he sent me… but I got back too late and now… I should have…"

Her calves felt like they were melting into the floor, knees shaking as she stumbled forward into Farkas, who'd stood to put his arms around her and draw her close. "It's not your fault."

But it was her fault. She and Aela had brought that hailstorm of vengeance down on everyone they loved, and Kodlak had paid the price for their actions. "It is," she muttered. "It is. It's my fault."

"No," Farkas drew her away, his hard hands gripping her shoulders. "They came for the fragments of Wuuthrad, and Kodlak died trying to keep them."

"Kodlak was a warrior, and Talos be praised, he died as he lived," Vilkas said.

"In glorious battle," Farkas concluded.

"We will get the shards of Wuuthrad back." Vilkas ground his teeth together so hard that when he spoke, bits of spittle flew from the corners of his lips. "We will strike hard and take back what is ours, and they will rue the day they ever took up arms against the Companions. Luthien," he turned to look at her and she glanced up from the hold Farkas still had on her arms. Vilkas's eyes burned with the fire of vengeance, and it was so bright inside him, it terrified her. "We leave, now."

"I'm coming with you," Farkas insisted.

"You need to stay here. Tell Eorlund what's happened and begin preparations for the funeral. We will be back with the shards, and if we don't return by dawn, then tonight was a good night to die."

"If either one of you dies, I'll kill you both," Farkas growled and then loosened his grip before he let go of her at last. "May the gods watch over your battles. Both of you."

"And yours," she and Vilkas both said it at the same time, and then he turned to storm out the front doors, only stopping once to make sure she was right behind him.


	23. Chapter 23

Vilkas didn't slow his pace until they were almost a mile north of Whiterun, and he didn't say anything in that time either. It was as if it had taken him that long to find the courage to look at her, or maybe he was trying to find the right thing to say.

"You should have been there." He stopped and spun around to fully face her and for the first time she saw there were tears on his face he'd worked desperately to hide.

"I know."

"Ysgramor's beard, woman," he cursed. "What were you doing? I told you to stay home, to stay in Whiterun until we came back. Why didn't you listen?"

"Kodlak begged me to go," she defended. "He believed he'd finally found a way to cure the Companions of the beastblood, and he said he felt like death was near. I told him I should wait for you, but he said there wasn't time. I shouldn't have listened to him…"

"If Kodlak said there was no time to wait for us, then you did the right thing."

"Kodlak is dead because of me."

"You really think you could have saved him?" There was ice in his voice, his tone cutting through her and leaving her feeling anxious and raw. All she wanted was for him to hold her, to feel his strength and a small sliver of hope that even though their world was spiraling out of control around them, they would find a way to get through it and come out okay. He didn't reach for her, and though she wanted to make the first move, to offer him the comfort she knew in her heart he needed, she was afraid.

"No," she shook her head. "But if we hadn't instigated the attack with our rampage after Skjor…"

"They would have found another reason eventually." He turned back onto the road then, saying nothing more to her except, "And that is why they will taste my steel and die screaming and bathed in blood. Every last one of them."

She wanted to avenge Kodlak too, but the fire in Vilkas terrified her. She kept telling herself that the longer they traveled, the more time he would have to come to his senses and realize he was headed down the path that had swallowed Aela and herself whole after Skjor's murder. But the further they went, the more righteous his anger grew and the less he spoke at all.

They came to Driftshade Refuge at dawn on their second day of travel, the cold wind whipping against their faces as Vilkas lingered in the shadows of the snow-heavy pines and surveyed the stronghold with squinted eyes. The jagged war paint around his eyes brought out the ice in his stare and made him look savage. Luthien was in awe of him then, his vengeance lighting her own fire and readying her for the long, bloody battle that lay ahead.

"Sight your bow and take out the man on the roof," he whispered. "I'll take care of the two on the ground."

She nodded, thinking he was going to sneak in to dispatch them, but no sooner had she lined her target in her sight when Vilkas charged forward with a raging battle cry that startled even her and made her arrow slip. She restrung, taking advantage of the fact that the man on the roof was peering down over the edge as he strung his own bow and tried to figure out what was going on below.

Her arrow found his eye, and she watched as he tumbled over the side of the wall, landing with a hard thump just in front of the door of the Refuge. Vilkas moved for the door, pausing only long enough to look back and make sure she was right behind him.

The sound of battle outside had stirred the Silver Hand within, and they were met with a charge of soldiers on the stone stairs they had to hack their way through as they moved. Luthien battled a vicious orc all the way down the stairwell. He managed to slash his blade across her cheek, which only seemed to pour fuel on the fire that burned within. She held up her sword to block him when he came at her, staggering him with a hard blow until he lost his footing and tumbled backward down the stairs. Vilkas shoved his sword through the orc's throat when he hit the floor. Blood gurgled in the broken chamber as he gasped and sputtered in surprise, flecks spraying from his green lips as he reached up with his bare hands and tried to dislodge the blade. Vilkas twisted it and Luthien watched as the large body blocking her path twitched in protest before falling slack.

They crept quietly through the hallways, slipping into quarters and hacking Silver Hand who'd slept through the attack in their beds and painting the walls red with blood. The pungent, coppery scent was almost more than she could bear, the beast inside her snarling with delight as it realized how close she was to embracing its darkness and letting it overcome her. To tear them all, limb from limb… To feed on their warm flesh and fuel her vengeance with their blood.

The beast in Vilkas must have sensed how close she was to giving into the transformation; he turned over his shoulder, his sharp gaze boring deep into her soul as he said nothing more than the word, "No."

He was her Alpha, and she knew that, but his dominant command didn't make it any easier to resist. She had to focus instead on the pain, feed on her own adrenaline to keep moving, lest the beast would overtake her, and she would fail him, fail herself… fail Kodlak, who they'd come to avenge.

One by one, they took out their enemy, and when they came to a torture room and saw the remains of their wolven breathren splattered on the floors and walls, that was nearly the final straw. Once more, Vilkas turned to her and said, "No," but this time there was more softness in his command. The Alpha edge was still there, but also the voice of a lover and a friend who knew how far into the darkness she would descend if she let the beast win.

She only nodded understanding, and then drew her sword back up to fight with honor the way Kodlak would have wanted.

There were so many of them, which made her feel even more the fool about thinking she and Aela had actually put a dent in their numbers. She felt some of the guilt subside as she and Vilkas let all the wolves they were holding prisoner go free, falling into battle with them as they tore their captors to shreds in ways her own beast wished it could do.

Pressing on through an ice tunnel that brought them out on the other side of the cellar, they stopped, listening to the sound of voices just ahead. Vilkas nudged her to head right, and he went left, the two of them working together to wipe out every Silver Hand they encountered until they made their way back up the stairs and into the back side of the Refuge.

The two of them lingered in the doorway, surveying the room, counting their enemies and listening to the conversation they were having. They were talking about Kodlak, calling him a tired old man who should have died like the dog he was long ago.

"And once we melt these shards down, we'll forge a new blade and call it Dog Slayer," their leader laughed at his own joke, and the other two chimed in.

In the heat of her anguish, she took a step forward, Vilkas reaching out to hold her back so they could think the evaluate the situation and think battle through, but they'd heard her movement and the woman among them stood up and looked around.

"Did you hear something?"

"Probably just one of those squealing pups whining down in the cellar," the leader shrugged. "You know what I'd like to do? I'd like to go in there one night and cut them all down in their beds and move ourselves into their hall. That's a damn nice longhouse they have there, let me tell you."

"I'd like to tear the damn place down. It's a disgrace."

"You'll have to get through me first." Vilkas stepped forward without even indicating that he was just going to walk in.

"Well, if it isn't the dogs, come to meet the same fate their master did." All three of them stood up then, whipping out their weapons and storming down the steps. "You won't be running out of here with your tales between your legs."

Luthien didn't think, she just fought for their lives, deflecting heavy blasts of shock magic as best she could as she moved through them with fury and vengeance in her heart. The woman went down first, and while the other man backed Vilkas into a corner, Luthien found herself face to face with the man who'd put a blade through Kodlak's heart.

His face wavered before her for a moment, her imagination playing strange tricks on her until she felt as if she was standing in the dining hall of her father's home. Imperial soldiers had grabbed her struggling father, held him down while another walked in slowly and slid a blade into him. She could see his face, his desperate eyes, the blood staining the corner of his mouth as he gasped, and for a moment she saw Kodlak in her father's place.

The old man had died for all of them. She hadn't been there to protect him, but she could almost hear Vilkas's voice in the back of her mind. "Don't guess. Know, Luthien. Know it in here, in your heart and soul. You are exactly where you are supposed to be, doing what you are supposed to do. Never forget that."

"My hounds will pick their teeth with your bones, bitch."

Luthien swallowed, and knew in her heart she was doing exactly what she supposed to do. "Not today." She was calm when she brought down her sword, severing the muscle in his shoulder. Shock twisted his face, eyes bulging out in terror, as if he had actually been expecting her to just stand there and let him kill her. Her blade fell again, slicing through his neck like a hot knife through butter, and when he fell it was as if the world had slowed down just a moment to allow her to enjoy watching him fall.

"For Kodlak," she said, "and Skjor." And in her mind, she added silently, _for my father_.

Behind her, the sound of struggle had ceased, and she heard a pained moan that immediately drew her back to the moment.

"Vilkas," she turned, nearly tripping over the dead body behind her as she made her way toward where he had fallen near in the corner. She knelt in front of him, her attention drawn to his bloody hand and the puncture through his armor. His skin was ashen white, lips trembling every time he drew in a breath. Luthien felt her heart clench tight like a fist inside her chest, but she didn't let panic overwhelm her.

"Vilkas, you're going to be okay," she promised, unslinging her pack and opening it on the floor beside her. She rifled through in desperate search of potions, finding two at the bottom of the bag. She pulled the cork from the first one and held it to his lips. "Drink, please. I'm not going to lose you, not after everything."

"It's just a scratch," he muttered, a slow smiling drawing at his lips for a moment before he groaned and clutched his side again. "The shards," he muttered. "You have to find them."

"Drink the potion," she commanded. "We'll find the damn shards together when I know you're all right."

He reached for the bottle and clutched it in his hand, but he didn't drink right away, instead, he lifted his gaze to hers, and she saw admiration and softness in him that made her heart ache.

"Do you know why I fell in love with you?" he asked.

"Because you're a fool?"

He laughed, which turned to a choke that terrified her, but he ignored the pain it caused him and went on. "Because your fire burns like mine. For the first time in my life, I'd met a woman who wasn't afraid to show me her true spirit."

"Well, I'm about ready to show you just how hot my fire really burns if you don't drink that potion."

"I will," he said. "Go find the shards and bring them back to me."

"I'm not leaving you here."

"I'll be fine. I promise. Go, Luthien. Please."

She didn't have to go far to find the shards, and she was glad. It let her keep her eye on him as she gathered them from the table, swiping out to take the full health potion there as well. The Silver Hand wouldn't be needing it. The Silver Hand were no more.

Vilkas was just tipping the last few drops of potion from the second bottle she'd given him when she returned, the color returning to his face and blood no longer gushing from the puncture in his armor. "Here, here's another one," she handed him the bottle, which was twice the size of the other two combined. "Drink it all."

"Did you find the shards?" She held them out, and he reached his bloodied hand to caress them, fingers drawing back as if they'd burned him. "Keep them safe."


	24. Chapter 24

It was nearly an hour before Vilkas had recovered enough from his wounds that his strength returned and he swore he was able to travel. Luthien let him lean on her, drawing him forward as she led them to Dawnstar, which was in the opposite direction and completely out of the way, but she was able to hire a carriage there to take them home.

He slept, despite the constant bump of the road beneath the carriage wheels, and she watched over him, telling herself again and again that he was going to live. He had to.

The wound was closing, and he wasn't losing blood anymore, which was a good sign, but if the fever of infection set in before he completely healed, there was no telling whether or not he'd be strong enough to fight it.

He woke when they were just a few miles from Whiterun, his face brightening at the sight of Dragonsreach rising in the distance. "We're almost home."

"How are you feeling?"

"Much better. I think I just needed a little rest."

"I need to learn how to use magic," she announced. She'd thought about it all the way home. Farengar had told her about a college up in Winterhold, and the court mage offered to sell her spell tomes, but she'd never though she'd need the arcane arts as long as she had a blade in her hand and a bow on her back. "If I knew restoration magic, I could have healed you back there."

"I don't trust magic," he admitted, leaning in close to rest his head on her shoulder. "But I suppose it could come in handy in our line of work. I won't deny that."

"Maybe I should talk to Farengar when we get back to Whiterun," she said. "After Kodlak is laid to rest."

Vilkas said nothing.

She wished she could have paid the carriage to take them all the way up to Jorrvaskr, but when they arrived at the stables, Vilkas insisted he was fine to walk the distance. She noticed he was still limping a little every time he put even the slightest bit of weight down on the side he'd taken his injury, but she didn't mention it for fear of hurting his pride.

News of their return traveled to Jorrvaskr long before they made their way to the Wind District, and Farkas met them on the stairs, rushing out to assess his brother, who stood up straight and acted as though not a thing in the world was wrong with him.

"He took a blade to the gut," Luthien announced, watching Farkas blanch with worry. "He says he's all right, but you know how stubborn he is."

"We've got the shards," Vilkas changed the subject. "And the Silver Hand are dead."

"All of them?"

"All of them."

Relief seemed to wash over Farkas then. "Kodlak would be proud."

"No, he wouldn't." Vilkas stopped on the stairs. "Kodlak would be ashamed. He was not a man who thrived on vengeance, but it is done, nevertheless, and the Silver Hand won't bother us anymore."

Firmly put in his place, Farkas looked down at the ground in shame. "We've prepared his body," he said. "We've just been waiting for you two to come back before we held the funeral."

Vilkas nodded. "Then let us go and send him off to his afterlife, even if he'll never get to see Sovngarde as he dreamed he one day would."

Eorlund had built a pyre above the Skyforge, Kodlak's body prepared and resting, even if Luthien knew in her heart his spirit wasn't at peace. Eorlund spoke in his honor as Aela lit the pyre and said a few words of her own. Vilkas was the last to speak, his words touching everyone so deeply that even Njada Stonearm started to cry.

"Bring forth the fragments of Wuuthrad, Companion," Eorlund gestured to her. Luthien stepped forward and passed all the fragments they'd collected to the smith.

She didn't know how long they all stood there, watching the flames ride up to lap at the wooden pyre before consuming Kodlak's still body. One by one, they Companions began to leave the Skyeforge, until none but Vilkas, Farkas and Eorlund remained beside her. Vilkas was lost in the fire, Farkas standing beside his brother, the two of them a mirror of sorrow and regret.

"Luthien," Eorlund drew her aside. "I wonder if you might do me one small favor."

"Of course. Anything."

"There is another fragment, one Kodlak always kept close to him. Could you retrieve it for me?"

"Where can I find it?"

"Check the table beside his bed."

She nodded, walking past the twins and heading down the pathway to Jorrvaskr. The hall was empty, silent, but she could feel the restless ghosts of the dead as if they lingered near. Shaking off the chills she felt as she descended the stairs, she made her way to Kodlak's quarters.

It was strange not seeing the old man at the table outside his room, a cup of mead in one hand, quill in the other, journal laid out before him, blank pages waiting to receive his thoughts. She opened the doors to his room and stepped inside for the first time ever, and immediately she felt as if he was just outside, waiting to walk in and find her there. She went to the bed and sat down, pulling open the dresser drawer to find the journal, and though she knew she shouldn't, she took it out and unlooped the strand of leather that held it closed.

She flipped through the pages, not even sure what she was looking for. Maybe words of wisdom, comfort for her troubled mind from beyond the grave. She stopped when she came to a passage and saw her name.

_Fortune smiles upon us. Yesterday Vilkas was telling me how difficult it has been for him to give up his transformations. Until we can pursue a true cure, the twins and I have chosen not to give in to the beastblood. For me, it's provided a clearer head, but Vilkas seems to be suffering a bit for it. Farkas seems completely untroubled. That boy continues to amaze with his fortitude._

_While Vilkas was confiding, through the shadows of Jorrvaskr, I saw a newcomer approach, who wished to join our numbers. It was the stranger from my dream, the one who would stand with me against the beast. Vilkas began speaking obliquely, not wishing to air our problems in front of our guest, and I had to be doubly cautions to not reveal anything of our secrets to the newcomer, while also not revealing the details of my dream to Vilkas. I don't know how the politicians deal with these sorts of machinations daily._

_In any case, I've sent Vilkas to test the newcomer. We'll see if Luthien is truly the great warrior I dreamt of._

She scrolled back a few pages and read the passages about the dream, the line of Harbingers taking their places in Sovngarde before Terrfyg follows Hircine into the Hunting Grounds to spend his afterlife. Kodlak dreamed of her before she'd come, that she stood beside him against the wolf spirit that came to drag him into the Hunting Grounds, and battled it together.

She then flipped forward to the last entry. He'd written just after she'd left to face the Glenmoril witches.

_I have received few dreams over the course of my life, but when they come, I have learned to trust them. I have also learned to trust the instincts of my heart, which tells me that Luthien can carry the Companions legacy as truly as any residing in Jorrvaskr, especially with the loss of Skjor. Aela is too solitary Vilkas too fiery, and Farkas is too kind-heard. Only Luthien stands as a true warrior who can keep a still mind amidst these burning hearts._

_I will not speak to Luthien of any of this though. It is too much to burden another with. My hope is that Luthien and I can keep counsel over the coming years, that I can impart the wisdom of the Harbingers. All things in time. Firstly, I will seek her assistance in the matter of the witches of Glenmoril. It would appear that our path to the cure is not without some poetic justice for the tricksters who first cursed us._

She felt her eyes sting with tears, and when she blinked the rolled down her cheeks and dripped onto the pages, blurring the ink where they fell. Closing the journal, she tucked it into her pack. She wanted to show Vilkas, to ask him what it might all mean.

The shard rested at the bottom of the drawer. She drew it out and held it up, inspecting it in the dull light from the oil lamp she'd carried with her into the room. It was dull, and she couldn't imagine what Eorlund wanted with it, but she would take it back to him anyway.

Wiping the tears from her face, she swallowed her grief and went back upstairs, out the front doors to avoid the others, and back up the path to the Skyforge to find Eorlund. He'd lain all the shards out beside the forge, only looking up when he heard her approach.

"Did you find it?"

She nodded and held it out to him.

"Thank you."

"What are you going to do with them all?"

"You'll see," he offered a long, sad smile and then gestured with his head to the path. "Your siblings await you in the underforge."

They were bickering when she found them, Vilkas and Aela arguing about what Kodlak would have truly wanted while Farkas stood quietly between them. They barely seemed to notice she'd come in, and for a while she just stood listening to their words, her mind trying to make sense of it all. Kodlak had dreamed of her before she'd ever even come to Jorrvaskr, had planned to share his wisdom with her in hopes that one day she would take his place as Harbinger.

Her gaze traveled to Vilkas, who looked pale again, but for the fire in his eyes that she knew would carry him all the way to Sovngarde to battle the gatekeeper himself if he thought it would get Kodlak into the hall. She knew she couldn't tell him to rest; he would never listen to her, but she feared if he didn't take rest soon, he would collapse where he stood and never stand again.

The argument seemed to go on for hours, Vilkas and Aela skirting around what was right for the Companions and their future. She thought about handing Kodlak's journal over to them, so they could read what Kodlak really wanted, but the time wasn't right, and she feared it would only make matters worse.

"You act like this is a curse, but this is who we are, Vilkas. When are you going to accept that?"

"Never!" he railed. "This is not who we are. It's who we have became, and Kodlak didn't accept that this was final either. He was a true and noble warrior, and he longed to meet with Ysgramor in Sovngarde to take his rightful place in the Hall of Honor."

"Vilkas is right," Farkas finally spoke up. "Kodlak never wanted to spend eternity in the Hunting Grounds. He accepted that you and Skjor did, but just because you don't agree with what he wanted, doesn't make his final wishes any less important, Aela."

She relented, her head dropping, the length of her auburn hair falling beside her cheek. "You're right," she nodded. "You're both right."

"Kodlak believed there was a way to cure the beastblood, even in death, but without Ysgramor's blade, it is impossible."

None of them had even heard Eorlund come in, but when he spoke he had all of their attention. "Thanks to your shield-sister here, I was able to take that which was broken and reforge it once more. Behold, Wuuthrad—the blade of mighty Ysgramor."

"Wuuthrad." Vilkas stepped forward, hand reaching out in awe. "Eorlund, you've…"

"It is restored to its former beauty and just as deadly," Eorlund promised. "And though Kodlak is not here to say so, I feel I speak for him when I say that your shield-sister here should carry Wuuthrad into battle, since it was she who retrieved the shards."

"Yes," Vilkas nodded, turning his gaze to her. "If not for you, we would not have this blade. Take it, Luthien. Carry it with honor."

"And come with us to the tomb of Ysgramor to grant Kodlak his final wish," Aela said.

"I—I can't… It should be Vilkas, or Farkas…"

"Do not shame Ysgramor by denying this honor, girl." Eorlund's tone was powerful, and for a moment she actually feared the wrath of Ysgramor coming down from Sovngarde to smite her. "Carry Wuuthrad to the tomb of Ysgramor and grant Kodlak's dying wish."

She reached for the long handle and drew it near, regretting that Vilkas had never had time to show her how to wield a war axe properly. "For Kodlak," she said, holding it close to her chest.

"For Kodlak," Vilkas agreed.

Farkas nodded, Aela stepping forward too, both of them saying, "For Kodlak."


	25. Chapter 25

Ysgramor's Tomb was far to the north, beyond Winterhold and the Sea of Ghosts. The four of them traveled nearly four days to reach it, battling snow bears and ice trolls. She kept a close eye on Vilkas, who'd been silent since they left, occasionally meeting gazes with Farkas, who was also keeping a close watch on his brother's health.

He shouldn't have come with them, and he knew it, but it would have dishonored Kodlak's spirit if he'd stayed behind. If there was one thing Vilkas couldn't stomach, it was dishonor. He suffered in silence, carrying his grief and his wounds all the way to the great tomb.

As they made their way inside, Luthien felt her breath catch in her throat as she approached the mighty, empty handed statue of Ysgramor that met them at the gates of the tomb. As Farkas and Aela inspected the statue, Vilkas drew her aside and narrowed his eyes over her.

"You'll need to be careful in there, Love. This is the final resting place of Ysgramor himself, and the spirits of his most trusted Companions guard the way and they will test you like you've never been tested before. They need to make sure you are worthy to be named among the Companions. I won't be there to protect you."

"What do you mean? You're not going in?"

Shaking his head, shame filled his eyes just before he lowered them and reached for her hands. "My heart burns with the fire of grief and my mind… it's so full I can barely think. I'm liable to get you all killed in there."

She would never admit it to him, but she was glad he was staying behind. Not that she didn't want him fighting at her back, but he needed to rest and maybe some time before Ysgramor would give him peace and respite from his grief.

"I will make you proud," she promised.

Leaning his forehead against hers, she saw the corners of his mouth twitch upward into a smile. "I know you will, my love." He kissed her then, and it was so powerful, it felt as if he had imparted what strength he had left inside him to see her through to the other side. "Watch over my brother."

She nodded and stepped back, allowing her fingers to slip out of his.

It was Wuuthrad that opened the gates. She placed the blade in Ysgramor's hands, and the great stone walls trembled open with a heavy groan that shook the tomb and brought rocks and dust tumbling down into the air around them. Aela charged in first, Farkas right behind her, and as Luthien followed, she glanced back over her shoulder at Vilkas one last time before she slipped into the tomb.

She'd expected draugr when Vilkas told her the warriors of old watched over Ysgramor at rest. Draugr, she could have handled, but when she saw the first ghost slip from its tomb and line its arrow straight at her, she nearly panicked. She didn't expect its arrow to actually stick when she lifted her shield on instinct to deflect it, but it did, and then she saw Farkas out of the corner of her eye, lifting a dwarven blade down through the ethereal essence of a warrior come to challenge him.

They battled their way through the chamber and opened the doors to the entrance hall, where three more warriors of old met them, bows drawn, blades at the ready for a fight. Aela's battle-cry echoed through the hall, and Farkas roared as he sprung to life, attacking the warrior closest to him. Luthien shot six arrows into the final one before it fell, and then the three of them moved on, passing through a doorway covered in cobwebs. Luthien slashed them away with her blade, but when she glanced over her shoulder she saw Farkas shaking his head.

"I can't," he admitted, shame drawing his mouth into a frown.

"Maybe someone should stay back with Vilkas," she spoke up. "Make sure he's all right."

She saw a gleam in her shield-brother's eye, and he nodded, grateful for the out. "I'll stay with Vilkas."

"Be careful heading back."

"Be careful going forward."

And then it was just her and Aela, battering their way through hordes of forgotten warriors, who Vilkas said only wished to honor them, but Luthien thought it seemed more like they wanted to kill them. They forged on, bringing rest to the dead and honor to themselves until at last they stood outside the burial chamber.

Luthien snuck down the steps, bow drawn and ready to loose an arrow into the ethereal warrior standing beside an altar. The warrior didn't move, except to turn his head over his shoulder to smile at her.

"I knew you would come," Kodlak said. "My fellow Harbingers and I have been waiting here for you, warming ourselves and evading Hircine."

"There are others here with you?"

"You may not see them, child, but they are here. There is so much I wish that I could say to you, but once more I fear we haven't the time for one another. I cannot linger here long."

"Vilkas said the cure may still be possible."

"Have you brought the witches heads?"

Luthien nodded, unslinging the bag from her shoulder and holding it up. "I have."

"Cast one of them into the fire, and I will fight beside you to destroy my beast spirit."

She drew out the first head she grabbed onto and threw it onto the ceremonial fire, blue flames rising up as Kodlak doubled over as if in pain. He staggered back, fighting whatever wrestled with his spirit, and then a great wolf appeared beside him, snarling and gnashing its teeth at the old man. Luthien drew her blade, stepping up behind it and striking until the beast whirled on her and charged. She battered it, hacking and pummeling until it began to slow and when her final blow struck it down, it yelped in pain and protest and then it disappeared.

Turning back, she found Kodlak's spirit gathering himself from where he'd fallen on the ground. "Is it…"

"Your wolf spirit is dead, Harbinger."

"If only I could free them all," he lamented. "Perhaps one day, we will wage a war from Sovngarde and bring our lost brothers home where they belong."

"Isn't there anything I can do now? I have more heads," she proclaimed. "I killed them all."

"There is one more thing you can do for me, Luthien. Lead the Companions to glory and honor, for you are the Harbinger now."

"Me?" she shook her head.

Aela was now standing beside her, her mouth agape with disbelief at what she'd just witnessed and overheard. "Did he just say you were the Harbinger now?"

"Be strong, shield sister. May the gods watch over your battles."

Kodlak disappeared, leaving Luthien and Aela alone in the empty chamber, the clean pyre drawing her forward with the bag still in her hand. The beast inside her seemed to cringe, as if it knew what she was thinking, and then it railed against her when she reached into the bag and grabbed another witches head to throw into the fire.

It felt like a part of her tore away, and she screamed as the beast wrenched itself free from her soul, leaping at her with its hackles raised, hungry maw slavering with hate. Swallowing her fear, she drew back her sword and with one heavy whack she severed the beast from her soul, staggering backward until she fell onto the floor, armor clattering, the shock ringing through her muscles and bones.

"What… what have you done?" Aela rushed toward her, glancing at the pile of smoldering ash on the floor that had once been Luthien's wolf spirit.

"I couldn't live with it inside me, Aela," she shook her head. "I know it was meant as a gift, and you gave it to me so generously, but… it was a curse for me. It tore me apart inside every day I let it live within me. I'm sorry…"

Aela's face shadowed with confusion and grief, but she held her hand out to help Luthien to her feet. "If that is your wish, then I respect it, Harbinger. I just hope you won't insist that everyone follow your lead. I am happy as I am."

Luthien nodded. "That is your choice, Aela."

As they were making their way toward the hidden exit, Luthien heard the chanting of a word wall calling to her, but instead of seeking it out, she walked away. She would come back, when she was stronger and her head was clearer. For the moment, she just wanted to walk outside and lift her face to the sky, feel the air upon her skin without the heat of the beast drawing her to the moonlight. She wanted to sleep again, her whole body no longer riddled with the aches or restlessness that had plagued her for too long.

Vilkas rose when he heard the wall open at his back and when he turned, Luthien was standing there, smiling.

"It is done," she said.

He walked toward her, looking her over as if he hadn't seen her in a long time, or maybe it was just that he'd noticed there was something different about her. His wolf spirit no longer recognized hers. "Did it work?"

"Yes, Kodlak's spirit is free."

"And he named her the new Harbinger as well," Aela added. "She is to guide us with her wisdom and lead the Companions to glory and honor for the rest of her days."

"You're the Harbinger?" Farkas's shadow appeared on her left.

"I guess," she started to shrug, but then remembered once more what Vilkas had told her. "No," she corrected. "I am the Harbinger."

Aela left them, making her way outside. As soon as she opened the doors, Luthien could smell the air outside and longed to follow its sweet scent.

"Let's go home," she said.

Vilkas shook his head, and as if he'd sent Farkas some silent cue to leave them alone, the other man wandered over near the gate. "I'm not ready to go home," he told her. "I let my anger and my grief keep me from the halls of this place, but now that I know Kodlak is at rest, I want to see it. I want to explore and find the peace I know is somewhere inside me."

"I'll stay too," she started.

Vilkas lifted a finger to her lips to quiet her. "I need time," he said. "I need to let this anger inside me go, or I fear it'll eat me alive. I don't want you to see that, Luthien. I want to be a whole man when I meet you at the altar and take you as my wife."

"Then you still want to marry me?" Over the last week, she'd begun to fear that when all was said and done, he wouldn't want to anymore, and though it tore her apart inside, she'd kept it to herself for fear of making him think she was weak.

His brow furrowed, hand lifting to rest against her cheek. "There is no one else in this world I'd rather live the rest of my days out with, fighting side by side until we draw our last breath and the gods carry us home together."


	26. Chapter 26

She made her way south with Aela, the twins having stayed behind to explore Ysgramor's tomb, but Vilkas promised he wouldn't linger long. Just before she'd left, Farkas took Wuuthrad from the statue and handed it back to her.

"This is yours now," he said.

Luthien only nodded, and took the blade, meeting gazes with Vilkas one last time before she slung Wuuthrad over her back and left them to the tomb.

Halfway back to Whiterun, she and Aela parted ways, Aela claiming she felt the need to roam, but Luthien just wanted to go home.

Every day she spent apart from him felt like an eternity filled with doubt and fear that he wouldn't come back at all and that promise had been their final goodbye.

Days, she conferred with Vignar and went through Kodlak's books, reading and rereading his journals and trying to come to terms with her new role as Harbinger of the Companions. Nights she lay awake listening to the wind howl like a wolf outside her windows, as if her lost wolf spirit were railing in protest at how easily she'd set it free. She didn't miss the beastblood, but she missed Vilkas; his warmth, his touch, his whisper in the darkness as he drew her body into his and claimed her completely.

One week passed, and then two, and her fear only grew. She worried that something had happened to the brothers, but one afternoon as she was coming out of Jorrvaskr on her way to Breezehome for the night, she spied two familiar figures passing through the gates below. Her stomach fluttered, the pace of her heart quickening as she gripped her skirt in her hands and flew down the stairs from Jorrvaskr two at a time.

She ran. Down through the Wind District, blowing through the guards, who called after her to watch where she was going as she blazed through the Merchant's Circle. When Vilkas saw her coming, he started toward her too and caught her in his arms, spinning her as he drew her into a hungry kiss, both of them laughing when he finally set her on her feet again. His lips had never tasted so sweet, his arms never felt so strong. She felt like he might crush her, but she didn't care. He was home, and they were getting married, and every day for the rest of her life he would be hers and hers alone.

She didn't even realize she'd started crying until he drew back to look at her, as if he hadn't seen her in years. Reaching up to brush the tears from her cheek, he swept in and kissed the place his fingers had just touched and said, "Don't cry, Love. I'm here now."

"I know, but I was… and you were gone so long… I feared the worst."

"I took good care of him," Farkas said. "The least you could have done was brought us a drink. I'm dying of thirst."

"I have plenty of mead at the house. Come. I'll make you dinner and you can tell me about your trip home."

The brothers followed her into Breezehome, where Lydia immediately set to pouring them fresh cups of mead as they took off their armor and stretched their muscles from the tension that came from carrying such weight around for so long.

"Did you find what you were looking for in Ysgramor's Tomb?" she asked, setting a plate down in front of him before she took the seat beside him.

"Yes," he nodded, then exchanged wary glances with his brother. "And no."

"What do you mean, no?" Luthien looked between them, their mirrored secrecy falling on Lydia, who hovered in the shadows.

"Lydia, will you run up to Belethor and see if he has any mead. These two are liable to drink us out of house and home and I want to make sure there is plenty to go around."

"Of course, my thane."

She waited until the woman was gone, then returned her attention to the brothers. "What do you mean, no?"

"We'd like to go back to the tomb," Vilkas said.

"But you've only just got back."

"We want you to come with us," Farkas explained.

"We did a lot of thinking," Vilkas began. "Well, I did a lot of thinking, and Farkas just sort of sat there, as he's prone to do, but we talked, and we both know that Kodlak was right."

"You mean you know that Kodlak was right, and Farkas went along because he didn't know what else to do?" she teased, ducking away from the swat of his playful hand.

"Vilkas says you're the new Kodlak. I don't know what that means, but I do know that I can still kick your ass with one arm tied behind my back."

Vilkas nudged his brother, and the grin began to fade from Farkas's face until he was the most serious she'd ever seen him. It was strange, she marveled, how much they looked alike. If not for Farkas's brawn, she didn't think she would have been able to tell them apart.

"What my brother is trying to say is that… we want to live and die as honorable warriors… and men."

"You didn't smell the same when you came out of the tomb," Farkas said. "At first I didn't know why, but Vilkas said you cured yourself."

Nodding slowly, she reached for her mug and took a drink. "I did. Just after I cured Kodlak's spirit, I threw another head into the flames and destroyed my own wolf spirit. I couldn't…"

"We understand why you did it." Vilkas reached over and rested his hand atop hers. "Would you help us slay our wolf spirits? So we can live the way men were meant to live?"

"I would be honored to help you both."

Both of them seemed to relax, as if her answer had lifted some of the world's weight from their broad shoulders.

"I know I promised you that we would go to the temple when we returned…" Vilkas started, but she held up her hand to stop him.

"I understand."

"I still want to go." He gently squeezed her fingers inside his. "I want to be a good man and a good husband, Luthien, and I can't be either of those things as I am now."

"You are a good man, now, and I love you no matter what burdens you bear. I will bear them with you until the end of my days."

"And I'm going home, before things start to get all mushy and I start to feel sick." Farkas scooted the bench away from the table and rose to his full height, nearly bumping his head on the rafters above him.

"When do we leave for the tomb?"

"When you say we leave. You _are_the new Kodlak, though I'm still trying to figure out how that whole thing works. Does he live in you, like a familiar or something? Can you summon him at will?"

"It's a figure of speech, Farkas. She's the Harbinger now. How many times do I have to explain… Never mind. Go home. I'll explain it to you again tomorrow."

"We'll leave at dawn," Luthien said when he reached the door, just as Lydia was coming back into the house.

"You might as well come with me," Farkas lowered his arm over her shoulder. "I have a feeling they're gonna bring the house down tonight, if you know what I mean."

For a long while, they sat in the quiet, his hand on hers, Farkas's heavy voice waning until it finally grew silent, right about the time they walked through the front doors of Jorrvaskr, she figured. She got up from the table and walked over to put another log on the fire, and as she was laying it among the coals, she felt him behind her. She hadn't even heard him get up, much less walk across the creaking floorboards, but when she rose, he was standing there, the fire flickering across his skin, that insatiable hunger burning in his beautiful eyes.

"You should let me do that," he nodded toward the hearth, reaching to take the split log from her.

"I kept the fires burning while you were gone," she grinned. "I know what I'm doing."

"Do you now?" He bent to lay the second log beside hers and came back up dusting his hands. "Why don't you show me?"

"I just did, but if you really want me to show you again…" She started to lean down to grab another log and he grabbed her by the wrist, tugging her into his chest.

"Show me how you kept the first burning while I was gone."

Luthien felt joy tugging at her heart, her stomach rumbling with nervous anticipation. It felt like months had passed since the last time they'd made love, just before he left for Falkreath the morning everything changed. They'd both been beasts then, but she was no more. Would it be different? Would he lose control and ravage her? Did it really matter?

Raising her hands to rest against on his shoulders, she lifted her gaze to his the top of her tongue darting out to moisten her lips. Luthien was a tall girl, but she had to rise up on the tips of her toes to reach his ear, exhaling warm breath as she whispered, "Follow me upstairs and I'll show you."

Moving back, she never let her stare waver from his, even as she drew away and started for the stairs. Vilkas's jaw rested against his chest. She could see it; her unexpected aggression and certainty was like pouring oil onto a fire. Without a word, he followed her up the stairs, into the bedroom, where she closed the door and then turned to face him.

She stalked toward him, walking him backward until he found the bed, tumbling down and drawing her with him. Before he could take control, roll her onto her back and take her, she gripped his wrists and held them above his head, lowering until her lips hovered just over his. Her kiss whispered across his, and he lifted his hungry mouth to hers, but she drew back, watching his eyes widen in surprise.

"What is this game?" He was grinning, as though he approved, but skeptical about the rules he didn't seem to understand. From the day they'd met, he'd dominated her, been her Alpha, her master, but if they were going to spend the rest of their lives together, he needed to know that they could share the power, take turns holding the reins from time to time. She was the Harbinger, the Dragonborn, and though she loved knowing he would be a good husband to her, care for her and look out for her, sometimes he would have to let her lead.

"_This_ is how I keep the fire burning." Her eyebrow lifted, and he relaxed, allowing her to take control and show him what she was made of.

The few times he attempted to take over and roll her onto her back again, she stopped him by gripping his arms and holding him down, saying nothing, but shaking her head. It drove him wild, she could see the hunger in his eyes, even when she followed through and carried him all the way to release, every moment she'd held him down had been almost impossible for him to endure. She'd felt the fever rise against his skin, that undeniable warmth and burning flame of the beast inside him railing against her, but she had tamed that beast and made him her own.

When she'd finished him off after satisfying herself, she curled up on his chest and listened to his heartbeat, a steady rhythm that quickly slowed to match her own. They'd held one another after that, Vilkas combing his fingers through her hair and stirring chills in her as he stroked untold patterns across her shoulder.

But the beast never relaxed long, and he was soon ready to go again. She let him lead, let him dominate and bring her to his will, and when all was said and done, they were both at peace. Luthien slept then, curled into his warmth and letting the sound of his breath carry her to a state of comfort she planned to spend the rest of her days enjoying.


	27. Chapter 27

Ysgramor's tomb was not near as daunting the second time she stood in the entrance hall in the shadow of Ysgramor's likeness. She had already been tested by his warriors and had proven herself worthy, but that did not take away from the majesty of the tomb, nor did it make the task that awaited her any less terrifying. She had killed Kodlak's wolf spirit, and then her own, but what if she failed the twins? She'd thought about it all the way to the tomb, wondering if Kodlak himself had created some special circumstances that made it possible. What if those circumstances no longer applied.

As if Vilkas had read her fears in the lines of her face, he lowered a hand to her shoulder as they approached the side entrance that led straight down into the temple. "Farkas first," he said.

"Are you sure?"

Vilkas nodded. "Farkas first."

She glanced over his shoulder toward Farkas, who was marveling at the statue of Ysgramor. "Farkas, let's go."

"Wait, aren't we both going?"

"I'll wait for you here," Vilkas said. "Be strong, brother. Soon your spirit will be free."

"No, we should do this together, Vilkas. We took the blood together, we should end that part of our lives together too."

"We can't do everything together, little brother." There was such sadness in that statement, as if he'd made the revelation long ago, and only just now decided it was time to share it with Farkas.

"Sure we can." Never so easily swayed, Farkas stepped up to his brother, but Vilkas didn't move. "I don't want to do this alone. I need you with me."

"You won't be alone." Vilkas glanced up at her, a silent pleading in his eyes for her to do right by his brother. "You'll be with our shield-sister. She'll watch after you when I'm not there."

Both of them were looking at her then, their faces so similar and yet so different. She'd never thought she would have family again, people she loved so much it made her entire soul ache. "Come on, Farkas. I'll protect you."

He hesitated, once more looking toward his brother for something, approval, perhaps? Vilkas nodded, and Farkas followed her down through the stone tunnel and into the ceremonial chamber where unnatural blue flame still burned in the pyre. She unslung the bag from her shoulder, the stink of the witches' rotting heads wafting through the burlap when she dropped it onto the floor at her feet and bent to open it up.

"It feels strange in here," Farkas noticed. "Almost like we're not alone, but not in a bad way, you know?"

She wondered if the Harbingers of old still lingered there in that chamber, hiding from Hircine and avoiding the Hunting Grounds, as Kodlak had done, or if Kodlak and the other Companions had launched their battle from Sovngarde to bring them home.

"We're not alone here," she reached into the bag and brought out a head, the ooze of rot slick in the witches' hair, its dead and angry eyes staring up at her as if they might blink back to life and curse her where she stood. "The souls of the Harbingers of old linger here sometimes to avoid being taken to the Hunting Grounds."

"Oh." He'd taken off his helmet, the long locks of his hair rustling against the shoulders of his armor as he stretched his arms back to loosen the muscles. "Like Kodlak?"

"No, not Kodlak," she shook her head. "Kodlak is in Sovngarde, probably deep in his cups and sharing battle stories with Ysgramor himself."

"I hope I meet him there one day."

Luthien's lips lifted, a soft smile playing over her lips. "You will, Farkas." Stepping up to the pyre, she turned back to look at him again. "Are you ready to face your wolf spirit in battle?"

She watched his Adam's apple leap against a heavy, gulping swallow, and when he nodded, a slice of hair fell across his face. "Let's send that beast to the depths of Oblivion."

Dropping the head into the flames, it sparked and crackled as the fat began to melt away, hair catching fire, and for a moment she swore the witch grinned maliciously at her, but before she could lean closer to inspect it, she heard Farkas holler in surprise as the snarling spirit of his own beast charged at him.

"Son of a b—" he barked, slinging his sword downward and connecting with the ethereal wolf. It yelped and staggered back in surprise, but its docility only lasted a moment. Raging forward again, it snapped its teeth at him, Luthien rushed in to catch it off guard from behind, unslinging Wuuthrad from her back and bringing it down into the arch of the beast's back.

It spun on her, jaw slavering as it growled, skulking in to attack. She didn't let it. She swung Wuuthrad again, connected with its neck, but behind the beast, she saw Farkas drop to the ground, as if every blow she struck was hurting him as well.

"Farkas!"

"I'm… all right."

"Here." She lowered Wuuthrad long enough to toss him a healing potion, then gripped the long handle tight in her hands and raised it across the top of the beasts head. It whined in pain, slinking away and heading back toward Farkas, as if to make one final plea for him to hold onto it, but before it could reach him, she stuck the sharp curve of her axe into its back and it fell fizzling into a pile of blue ash that smoked and smoldered on the floor. Catching her breath, she lowered Wuuthrad to the floor and leaned on the handle. "Are you okay?"

"Is it… dead?"

"Yes, it's dead. Can you stand up?"

"I think so."

He stumbled a little when he stood up, but quickly righted himself, rising to his full height and stretching. "Hey, wow," he marveled. "It's like warm mead running through my entire body, and I'm missing aches I didn't even know I had."

"So you're all right then?"

"All right? I feel good! This is how a warrior is supposed to feel." He grinned and flexed the muscle beneath his armor, then hiked toward her to grab her shoulders. "You did it. You really did it." Letting her go, he danced backward. "I gotta go tell Vilkas. He's never gonna believe…"

His voice was already a trailing echo on the stairs, body disappearing into the cavern that led back into the entrance hall where Vilkas waited for news. Luthien stayed in the chamber alone, not seeing the point of walking all the way back up there if she was just going to return in a moment anyway. She leaned on Wuuthrad again, allowing her heartbeat to slow and listening to the whispers of Harbingers past in the shadows.

She hadn't heard them the last time, even though Kodlak had assured her they were there. She couldn't even begin to imagine the hardships that troubled their spirits, the constant running even after death, the search for a safe place to hide when all they wanted was to go home to the Hall of Heroes. That was no way to spend the afterlife, now when they spent their whole lives fighting for honor and glory.

"I wish I could release you all," she muttered into the shadows. "Send you all home to Sovngarde where you belong."

"Maybe you will, one day." She hadn't heard Vilkas coming down the walkway. Looking up, his face was solemn, serious, as if he had never been more ready to get down to business in his life. "Just like you did for Kodlak and my brother."

"And now I will do the same for you."

He swallowed hard as he approached her, and for the first time since they'd met, she saw real fear in his eyes. "I don't know if you can, but I am willing to die to find out if I can beat this wretched curse inside me."

She understood why he'd been so quiet on the journey, what thoughts had plagued him. "I won't let you die, Vilkas. I won't let your beast destroy you."

The left corner of his mouth twitched upward, but it wasn't a whole smile. "Then let us show this beast of mine that I don't need him anymore."

"Together," she nodded.

"Together," he agreed.

Vilkas's wolf spirit was ready to fight before the witch's head began to burn on the pyre, leaping out from the spirit realm and attacking him viciously. Even as he railed against it, sword connecting, driving it back, it overpowered him and drove him to the floor. Luthien fell in behind it, fighting it off and back it into a corner, but it didn't want her. It wanted Vilkas, and no matter how many times she brought her blade down to fight it off, it always skirted around her and flew back at him as if it truly would tear him to pieces.

"You have to fight it, Vilkas," she cried above the growling, vicious echoes of hate that fueled the beast. "I can't do it alone."

"It's too strong." He blocked it with his sword, but the wolf ducked underneath, teeth snapping at his knees.

Luthien fell in beside him then, pushing and holding the beast back until he found his stamina again, and came back to the fight. For a while it seemed he was winning, driving it back against the edge of the circle, but its fierce attack knocked him to his knees.

"You are not your monster," she told him. "He doesn't own your spirit, Vilkas. You do."

That revelation gave him pause, and for a split second she thought the beast was going to take him down, but he found his strength, and with renewed vigor he flew at the wolf and shattered him back to the Hunting Grounds for all eternity. He fell to his knees, and at first she didn't know if he was hurt, or if he was just overwhelmed by everything that had just happened.

Luthien went to him, dropping down in front of him and gripping his shoulders. "Are you all right?"

His eyes were clear, calm and soft when he lifted them to her face, tears welling in them and threatening to fall. "Is it over?"

"Yes," she whispered, raising a hand to rest on his cheek, a tear dripping down over her thumb when he blinked. "It's over."

Vilkas lifted both hands to the back of her head, and he was trembling when he drew her near and breathed her in. "I can't smell your blood rushing through your veins anymore, or feel the thunder of your heart." He kissed the top of her head, then her forehead and her cheek, the tip of her nose before he nuzzled his own nose over the place he'd just kissed. "I'm free, Luthien. I'm really free."

The emotion of her laughter nearly choked her to tears.

"Thank you," he whispered, lips hovering just over hers. "Thank you for believing in the man inside me. Thank you for setting him free." The overwhelming hunger was gone from his soul, but the loss of the beast within hadn't taken away from his need for her. When he kissed her, she tasted the future, their future, and she knew anything was possible… everything was possible.


	28. Chapter 28

"So, what now?" Farkas had more energy than any one person should have been allowed to have. He bounced as he walked, spinning around constantly to make sure they were keeping up and bombarding them with questions to keep the talking.

Luthien and Vilkas didn't need to talk. They were both content with the silence of the world around them and the unwritten future that awaited. They were exactly where they were supposed to be, walking the path the gods had designed for them to walk, and they were walking that path together.

"We should go troll-slaying," Farkas said. "Or maybe we could find one of these so-called dragons I keep hearing about, and bring it to its knees. We should do something."

"We're going to Riften," Vilkas spoke up.

"Ooh, to take out the Thieves Guild." Farkas's simple grin was infectious, and Luthien found herself laughing. "Nice. I like the way you think, brother."

"We're not taking out the Thieves Guild. We're going to the temple to seek the blessing of Mara."

"Oh," Farkas's brow furrowed. "Well, I guess that's fine too, but why do we need her blessing? I've always been happy with the blessing of Talos, but Mara's all right too, I suppose. How does she help warriors though?"

"She helps them take a wife," Vilkas said, reaching out to take her hand in his. "Make a home and family with a woman they love."

"Oh…" and then it dawned on him. "Ohh! Now I get it. So you two are finally gonna do it? It's about damn time."

"Do you want to come with us?" she asked.

"Of course I'm coming with you. I go where my brother goes. Always."

"Not everywhere," Vilkas grinned. "I have a feeling once we get home to Whiterun, you're going to have to start going a few places without me."

"What's that supposed to mean? You're trading me in for her? I don't like the sound of that one bit." She could see the playfulness in Farkas's eyes.

"Someone's going to have to stay home and take care of the children while the Dragonborn is out defending the world. She'll need a strong shield-brother at her back to protect her. And that's where you come in. You'll look after her when I can't."

Had he just said children? They hadn't brought up the prospect of having children since they'd set out for Ustengrav, and though she hadn't thought much about it herself either, it made her heart swell to know he had been thinking about it.

"Huh, I never figured you for a househusband, Vilkas. Next thing, you'll be telling me you want to open a quiet little shop in Solitude and that you're thinking of taking up knitting."

"I'll never knit," Vilkas declared, the three of them bursting into laughter. "But in all seriousness, I won't always be able to travel with her, and I'll expect you to go in my stead."

"All right," Farkas nodded. "I can live with that." He was quickly distracted by a flutter of movement up ahead, and when Vilkas saw it was just an ice wraith, he hung back and let his brother rush forward to find glory.

"Did you really mean what you said?" Luthien asked. "About having children?"

"I'd never considered it an option before, but now that I can see the world through much clearer eyes, I keep returning to what you told me your mother used to say… about hope and light in a dark world." He paused, turning into her and reaching for both of her hands to hold between them. "I am ready for hope, Luthien. You've been a light in my darkness since the day we met, and I want to bring hope into this world with you."

"Together, then?"

Vilkas squeezed her fingers gently. "Together."

~Fin~

A/N: First of all, thanks to everyone who's been reading and commenting on Taming the Wolf. It's been a pleasure sharing it with you all. There are sequels to this story, but I will probably not be posting them here on this site, as they are a bit darker and more graphic and I have no desire to break the rules put in place by the site. Riding the Storm and The Dragon Queen both can be found on my personal website, complete with screen caps from the game for anyone interested in visiting. The link is in my profile for those who wish to follow.


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